Unfeasible
by Yuki Kurumi
Summary: "Granger," he said when he had finally found his voice. "I... Can't..." She nodded and brought her hands from his arms down to her sides. "I can't, either," she replied, looking downward as she talked. DMHG, post-Hogwarts. CHAPTER 10 UP!
1. Unfeasible: Chapter 1

_Chapter 1_

No one ever told her that working as a private doctor's secretary was this much work. There always seemed to be paperwork to be done, and while a little paperwork never hurt anybody, this was one hell of a stressful part-time job.

Hermione ran her fingers through her hair, trying to force some stray curls to stay put behind her ear. She inwardly cursed as the same lock kept falling into her eyes. Her hair was currently at its prettiest, not so curly or frizzy at it had been when she was still in Hogwarts. In fact, it had straightened out a great deal to the point that it almost crossed the barrier between curly and wavy.

Almost. Sometimes she thought that the smoothness brought along by her conditioner was at fault for her new dilemma concerning that one stray lock that never stayed in place.

She looked up at the wall clock situated to the right side of the examining room door. If she could have, she probably would have tried to will the hands to skip the next four minutes and just rush on to 7 o'clock. It had been a long, tiring, 12-hour day, and she wanted to get off work as soon as she could.

She had always wanted a career in medicine. After Hogwarts, she entered the two-year program that instructs witches and wizards on how to be proper Healers, and then spent another half year as an intern at St. Mungo's. The final examination for their licensure was to be held on August, and she had six months to herself.

Her first week after graduation from the program had been spent at home, reading and re-reading the books which covered the topics needed for the licensure, but in time she grew tired of her monotonous life. It had been one of the most spontaneous moments of her life, but Hermione found herself two days into the second week sitting in the same sitting room she was now in, being interviewed by a family friend for a part-time job.

Sometimes she cursed her inability to stay idle for a long time. She found that it often got her into trouble. Now, because of her impatience and spontaneity, she was spending at least ten hours of her day acting as a secretary and an assistant to Dr. Dirk Emerson, their Muggle family friend.

Oh, she loved playing assistant. It would always give her pleasure to see patients walking out of the clinic either healed or on the way to it. At times, it tortured her that she could not perform magic to help ease their physical pains, so she made sure to make up for it by lending a hand all the time.

It was the paperwork that did her in every day. She did, after all, sign up to be secretary. The bodily assistance she gave was purely voluntary, and she refused to receive any pay for her extra work. It was the mountains of paperwork that had to be accomplished which made her eyebrows furrow every night when the day was about to end.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the four minutes she was waiting for came to an end, and a short alarm emanated from the clock. At about the same time, the door to the examining room opened, and Dr. Emerson came out accompanying an old lady who had come to the clinic asking for a cure to her back pains.

Hermione at once stood up and held the old woman's arm to help her across the room. "How are you feeling now, Mrs. Plympton?" she asked kindly, smiling at the lady.

The corners of Mrs. Plympton's eyes crinkled and she pat the hand that Hermione had on her arm and smiled good-naturedly. "Quite all right, dear. Dr. Emerson has done a little reflexology on me, and my back doesn't hurt quite as much as it did when I first came in."

"That's wonderful, Mrs. Plympton," Hermione replied, genuinely happy that the lady was feeling better. "Let me put that prescription you're holding into your purse. We wouldn't want you to lose it accidentally." She reached for the slip of paper and stuffed it neatly into Mrs. Plympton's purse.

"Thank you, dear. As always," the old lady replied. "Would you mind very much if I asked you to hail a cab for me?"

Hermione opened the door and led her out. "Of course not. Here, let me help you…" He voice trailed away as they moved further down the corridor, and Dr. Emerson could only smile as he turned to his table.

Hermione's arrival at his clinic was a real blessing. Not only was she good with the patients, she was also a hard worker. Sometimes he had to force her to step out of his clinic just so that she would go home to rest. He knew she held a particular loathing for the stack of papers that was perpetually present on his table, but her sense of duty always came first, and she would finish what she had started even if it already took her personal time.

At that moment, the said girl returned to the clinic and walked to his table. "Good work today, Dr. Emerson," she said, smiling tiredly. She had been up late for the past days, and the lack of sleep was taking its toll on her.

"You, too, Hermione," the doctor replied. "You look like hell. Go home and rest." Hermione looked uncertainly at the papers on the table, and he laughed. "You've done enough for the day. I think you deserve some well-earned rest. Why don't you go on home and sleep? Your eye bags are getting to be quite noticeable."

Hermione gave him a weary but thankful smile. "I think I will. I'll make up for my hasty departure tomorrow," she said as she walked to the small cabinet beside the table to grab her bag.

"You _are_ tired," Dirk Emerson said amusedly. "Tomorrow's a Saturday, Hermione. Clinic is closed on weekends, remember?" He led the girl to the door, handing her the umbrella she had left on the hook by the door, just in case it rained. "Run along. I want you to get plenty of rest in the next two days. I don't want you collapsing during work on Monday."

"_Ha ha_," she said. "I will, I promise. Good night, doctor." With a final wave, she walked out of the clinic, ready to hail a cab home to her flat.

**********

Hermione stifled a yawn as she walked into Cecconi's. She had fallen asleep as soon as she got into her room, and when she finally woke up to make herself some late dinner, she discovered there was nothing at all in her fridge. She had no choice but to eat out. It was a good thing that it was almost 10:30 in the evening. There weren't as many people in the restaurant as there would have been at 8.

She walked over to the bar and nodded to the bartender, signaling for one Apple Martini. She and the bartender, a man named Pablo who was ten years her senior, had been friends for almost five years now. She always made it a point to visit Cecconi's when in Muggle London because it provided a perfect place for her type of relaxation, and Pablo had taken a liking to her. She always made interesting conversation.

"An order of roast chicken salad, Pablo, please," she added as she climbed onto a seat. She had always been fond of salads.

"Sure thing, Hermione," Pablo replied with a hint of Italian accent. He placed her Martini glass in front of her and turned his back to prepare the salad. It gave Hermione a bit of idle time, and she used that time to think over what she would be doing that weekend.

_A visit to the spa is in order, I think_, she thought to herself. _I haven't been tending to my nails lately since I always seem to fall asleep just as soon as my feet touch the bedroom floor. My nail polish is chipping._

_And a nice, long, zen massage would be absolutely lovely, too_, she thought as she reached behind her neck to massage a sore spot.

Pablo returned a few minutes later, carrying her plate of salad, with extra dressing on a separate saucer. She always overdid the dressing, and if she could have her way she would have put enough dressing to drown the rest of the dish. "So," Pablo said as he placed the plate in front of her and handed her a salad fork. "You look like you just came from a trip to hell, 'Mione."

Hermione gave him a wan smile. "I think my insomnia's come for a little attack this week, Pablo. I haven't gotten a decent wink of sleep in four days. The overtime at work is really getting to me now, I think." She gave a small laugh before sticking her fork into her leafy greens.

Pablo reached out to pat her shoulder. "Eat up to regain your strength. I'm half afraid you'll fall off your own feet."

Hermione laughed. "Oh, heavens," she said. "I'm not _that_ weak. I'm just sleepy. If I had any choice, I wouldn't have stepped out of the house, but I didn't have any food left at home." She stabbed a piece of chicken with the fork and put it in her mouth. "Delectable, Pablo," she commented. "As usual."

The bartender humbly bowed, but his eyes sparkled with pride at the comment. "Only the best for my favorite girl." At that moment, another customer signaled to Pablo, and he excused himself from Hermione's company.

She smiled and returned to picking at her salad, slightly grateful for the semi-silence. The first bite of her salad had fed her hunger, and in no time at all she had already finished her late dinner. Pushing the plate from her, she took a sip of her Apple Martini.

"I find it hard to believe that a lady such as you is drinking alone at this time of the night."

The martini glass froze halfway from her lips as she was about to put it down, and one eyebrow twitched as she tried to convince herself that the voice she had just heard did not belong to the person she thought it did. She slowly whirled to face the man who had talked to her, and inwardly groaned when she saw that she had not been wrong.

**********

A/N: First chapter! Tell me what you guys think. :)


	2. Unfeasible: Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Draco Malfoy (as much as I, and a lot more ladies, want to) or Hermione Granger. The only aspects of this fic that I own are the characters you don't recognize from the book, and the plot. All other credit goes to JK Rowling.**

_Chapter 2_

Draco Malfoy stared at her, and she was pretty sure her face mirrored the same shock that was now evident on his face.

"G-Granger?" Draco managed to stammer out when he had finally found his voice. _Damn_, he swore to himself. He had not thought that the girl that attracted his eyes as soon as he entered the bar's doors would be the same girl he had loathed back in school. _No one in their right mind would ever imagine Hermione Granger looking sexy from behind in a green flannel shirt and skinny jeans._

"Seriously?" Hermione said as soon as she had gotten over the shock. "Draco Malfoy, in Muggle London?" The last time she had seen the git was a year and a half ago, when he had accidentally bumped into her in Diagon Alley as she was exiting the Apothecary with an armload of ingredients for medicinal potions. She repressed a frown as she remembered how he had walked away muttering curses at _her_ for bumping into _him_, when it had been the other way around.

"So," she resumed, when he did not answer. "What's a Malfoy doing in a Muggle restaurant, hitting on a supposedly Muggle girl?" She ran her eyes up and down his body, scrutinizing his attire. "You actually even managed to look Muggle, Malfoy," she observed. _And look hot in it, _said the part of her brain that had been celibate for the longest time.

She mentally rolled her eyes at herself, disgusted that she had even entertained that particular train of thought even only for a few seconds.

But he _did_ look gorgeous in his black turtleneck and dark blue denims.

_UGH_.

She took another sip of her Martini in order to calm herself down.

Draco pulled back to give her a fuller view before he could consider what he was doing, and would have made a twirl if he didn't think it was absolutely gay. "So I do pass for one?" he asked. "I was just passing by. I love their pasta here, and I do come often." Trying to keep the thought of _almost _doing a twirl in front of Hermione Granger out of his mind, he pulled a chair beside her at the bar and sat down, oblivious to the expression in Hermione's face that shouted _Why-are-you-sitting-beside-me? _"One whisky, Pablo," he called.

He turned in his seat to face her, and noticed her staring. "What?"

Hermione shook her head and blinked to clear her thoughts, but still continued looking at him confusedly. "No qualms about sitting beside a muggleborn in public, Malfoy?" she asked haughtily. "That's two surprises in a row today."

Draco threw her a disgusted look. "I'm not about to give up my favorite seat just because you happen to be here, Mudblood," he spat. He noticed Pablo eyeing them both as he was handed the drink.

"Any problems, beloved customers?" Pablo asked, looking at both of them. "You know each other?"

Hermione gave a helpless smile. "Yes, Pablo. An… Acquaintance from school."

"Ahhh…" Pablo answered knowingly. "I take it that Mr. Malfoy here is one of those select few you kept on ranting about before?"

Hermione laughed evilly as Draco glowered at her. "Not _one_ of the few, Pablo," she said sweetly, returning a glare at the blonde haired boy beside her. "The very source of _everything _I kept ranting about."

Draco rolled his eyes and chose to ignore her comment and the resounding chuckle from Pablo, taking a sip of his whiskey. The weather was cold, which he rather liked, and he was in good spirits before entering the restaurant. He didn't want to ruin his good mood by bickering with the Mudblood again.

"Here," Pablo said, presenting them with another glass each of their drinks. "These are on me. Do some catching up without trying to kill one another." With a sarcastic salute, the bartender turned and went into the kitchen to replenish the bowl of sliced lemons to be used for tequila shots.

Hermione smiled. "I love that guy," she muttered, mostly to herself.

"Yeah, so do I," Draco said, answering before he could stop himself, and in turn lowering the barrier of awkwardness that separated them.

"I still can't believe I'm beside you at a bar, Malfoy." Hermione finished her first glass of Martini with a final gulp. She turned to him, holding her second glass, and eyed him from behind the stray lock of hair that absolutely would _not_ stay in place.

Draco grunted in assent, still not answering.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Come, on," she said exasperatedly. "Grow up and get over that childish habit of being uncivil to me, Malfoy. Besides, silent treatment does not become you. I can't believe you're still so immature after all these years."

"I'm only 21, Granger," he replied dryly. "I have the right to _still_ be immature." Draco looked at her from behind his glass of whiskey before taking draining it. "Besides, we've never really been on a decent-conversational-chat relationship, and to start now would be quite awkward, I think."

Hermione sniffed derisively. "Of course. Not when you spent all those years trying to pull me down and humiliate me. What a huge amount of happy memories we'd be talking about now."

"See." He slid the glass away from him with a tiny flick and reached for the next one. "So there's really nothing to talk about." With that, he returned to silence, brooding on his own.

"Oh, _no_," Hermione said, stopping him halfway between putting his second glass to his lips. "Being alone with you is a rare thing, but being alone with you in a public Muggle place is even more rare. I intend to bug the shit out of you until I find out what ever made Draco Malfoy stoop so low, since you think so lowly of us, as to dine in a Muggle place."

Draco couldn't help but roll his eyes at her. "Haven't you got anything better to do?" he asked her testily. "You're being a real pain at the moment." He grudgingly noticed, as she rolled her eyes back at him, that she looked adorable when she pouted.

_The way the jeans hug her hips is very enticing, too._ He had to force himself to tear his eyes away from her curves and remind himself who—what—she was. _That's the Mudblood, Malfoy. The hybrid. The _unfortunately_ hot hybrid._

"Nevermind, Malfoy," he heard her say, cutting off his thoughts. From the corners of his eyes he saw that she had faced the bar again, sipping daintily on her Martini. He found his eyes straying to her lips, thinking of how many different things those lips could do. He stopped himself before _that_ frame of thought could even progress to something dirtier.

He put his whiskey down, eyeing the glass suspiciously and blaming it for his unusual attraction to the pretty witch beside him. "What the bloody hell do Muggles put in this thing?" he voiced out loud before he could stop himself, then shook his head. "Nevermind. I don't really need an answer to that."

He downed the rest of the glass and semi-slammed it down the table, reaching out for his wallet at the same time. He called Pablo to show that he was leaving his money at the counter, then hurriedly, but reluctantly, left the restaurant. He had really wanted to stay longer, but his hormones seemed to be getting to him, which is a really bad thing if the girl his hormones were reacting to was the Mudblood.

_The freaking Mudblood._

Hermione sighed once he had flown out the door. "Well, that didn't go well," she muttered to herself. Then she huffed indignantly at the thought of Draco still being so bad-mannered. She barely noticed that she had already finished her second glass, and was surprised to find nothing when she brought it to her lips one more time.

"Got into a fight?" Pablo asked as he collected the money Draco had left, smiling to see that Draco still was generous with the tip.

"Nothing new," Hermione replied, her mood getting fouler and fouler just at the thought of meeting Draco, accidental as it may have been. "Some things just never change, Pablo. Oh, that man just makes my blood boil!" She looked pleadingly at the bartender, as if by doing so she could get him to do something about it.

Pablo chuckled and pat her cheek. "Don't you let that man worry your beautiful face," he said, noting how her features softened at his compliment. "There are better things to do than let that occupy your already occupied mind." He mussed up her hair a bit before taking her already-empty glass. "Another helping?"

"No, thanks," Hermione said with a small shake of her head. "Oh, I love you so, old man. You keep me sane whenever I think I'm going to blow." She laughed, wanting to give the man a hug but knowing it was impossible due to the width of the bar.

"It's part of the plan, really," Pablo said, wiping glasses clean. "Pretending to be good-natured brings customers back and feeds the restaurant's income." He smirked at Hermione and laughed as she rolled her eyes.

"Don't expect me anytime in the next five years, Pablo," Hermione joked, reaching into her purse to take out her money. "I think I should get going, dear. I'm really still quite sleepy, despite all the surprises this night." She eyed the bottle of Martini on display behind Pablo, but shook her head. _No more alcohol for tonight. Not in this foul mood._

Pablo accepted the money she handed to him, not bothering to count it knowing that Hermione always gave the exact amount she was due, and more. "Yes, I think you should do that, too. You still look like hell, and a livid Hermione didn't look too appealing."

"Oh," Hermione said with a tiny, evil laugh. "You haven't seen the best parts, Pablo. You wouldn't want to see Malfoy and I in full blow. Possible trauma on anyone who witnesses the clash of the two mortal enemies, you know." She smiled devilishly before blowing the man a kiss. "I'll visit again soon, I promise."

Pablo gave her another smirk, something which he loved doing, and waved her away. "Make sure you do, lovely lady," was the last thing she heard before the door closed with a jingle of chimes behind her.

Hermione felt for the wand in her pocket, looking around to see if anyone was in the vicinity so that she could Apparate to her flat which was only three blocks away. Seeing no one, she entered a phone booth that was located at the corner of the street and Disapparated from there.

She found herself inside her kitchen one second later, and went to the fridge to get herself a glass of cold water before proceeding to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash up. Thirty minutes later, she was lying on her bed, eyes drooping until they closed entirely, and she drifted off to a deep, undisturbed sleep.

**********

**Author's Note: Next chapter… You guessed it right. Hermione and Draco encounter one another again. I wonder what will happen this time. Seriously, I do wonder. I myself haven't quite figured out yet what I want to happen between them. HAHAHAHA!**

**I hadn't noticed that MS Word automatically changed "Apparate" into "Apparatus". *poker face* So I've updated this with the edited version. :))**


	3. Unfeasible: Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Draco Malfoy (as much as I, and a lot more ladies, want to) or Hermione Granger. The only aspects of this fic that I own are the characters you don't recognize from the book, and the plot. All other credit goes to JK Rowling.**

_Chapter 3_

Draco slowly, reluctantly, opened one eye. The sunlight was streaming through the tiny opening between his curtains, creating a glowing line that ran directly across his face. His one open eye scanned his bedside table for the clock, and he groaned at the blinking red lights that clearly said "10:47 AM".

He grudgingly extricated himself from the blankets that were in utter disarray, stretching his arms and legs as he stood beside the bed. He noted that last night's shirt, which he had left strewn across a chair in the room, was now gone, and probably cleaned up by his house elf.

"Libby!" he called out as loud as his groggy mind could manage. He heard a loud crack to his left and faced his rag-clothed house elf, whose big brown eyes seemed to perpetually display awe and wonder. "Breakfast, please," he said, waving a hand.

"Yes, Master," wide-eyed Libby squeaked, disappearing with another loud crack.

Draco eyed the bed longingly, wishing he could lie back in it but knowing there were better things to do than just lie around all day. He walked to his bathroom and stripped off the rest of his clothes before stepping into the shower.

Fifteen minutes later, he stepped out of the shower dripping wet and grabbed the white towel hanging nearby. He dried himself off in front of the mirror, after which he used his wand to remove the stubble that was starting to show. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he padded out of the bathroom and back to his bedroom, where hot breakfast was waiting on his coffee table.

Bacons, eggs, French toast, and a glass of orange juice had always been his ideal breakfast. Easy to prepare—not that he did any of the preparations himself—easy to consume, and light enough on the stomach for him to not feel bloated but still be able to easily go about his daily activities. It was enough to get him by his mornings on working days without him feeling hunger pains way before lunch time.

With his wealth, he didn't really need to work. His inheritance was enough to support him and the next generation of Malfoys, after all. It was only mostly to keep him from running mad with nothing to do with his spare time. Sometimes he brewed potions for St. Mungo's; special, uncommon ones that happen to be vital to a patient's recovery. He had always been excellent at Potions in Hogwarts.

Sometimes, he worked as a researcher, as the laboratory under his Manor was one of the most advanced to be found In the Wizarding world. Doctors and specialists come to him to seek his opinion and to consult him on special cases. He could work for days on end just trying to figure out what was wrong with a patient and what best to use for a cure.

Today, however, was one of his free days. No owls have arrived—yet. He was hoping that none come at all. He had been working on a case for almost a week, and yesterday had been the first day he stepped out of the laboratory in five days. He wanted to have a little time for himself.

He sat on the chair by the coffee table as he bit into one of the slices of toast, looking out the window which nearly ran from floor to ceiling. The Manor was located near a cliff, with an excellent view of hills and a nearby lake. It was always pleasant to view the green scenery in the mornings. Hell, it was always pleasant to view the scenery any time of the day.

He slowly munched on his food as he began to go over the plans for the day while watching birds fly by the window, then realized he had nothing planned at all. No work-related meetings with important people, no social get-togethers scheduled with friends and acquaintances. It was really a day solely for himself, which he was thankful for.

At that moment, the fireplace behind him flared up, and he turned around to see his mother's face outlined in the flames.

"Draco, dear," Narcissa said in her soft yet sophisticated voice. "I haven't seen you in a while."

Draco rolled his eyes and chuckled at the silliness of his mother. "Mother, I'm at the opposite wing of the Manor. Did you really have to floo?"

"But you haven't been out of that wretched laboratory all week long!" His mother had always disliked the laboratory, with all its complex pieces of apparatus and all the specimens Draco so carefully kept in store for research. And she hated the fact that there was no fireplace to floo. For all Draco knew, she could have been flooing his room all week, trying to see if he had returned to his side of the Manor. "You have to step out of the house, Draco, or else you'd smell like that dratted lab."

"I _will_, Mother," he replied with an exasperated tone. "Today, in fact." He grabbed a fork and stabbed a piece of bacon and part of an egg, placing the morsels in his mouth. "I haven't really got plans yet, but I might walk around Diagon Alley to check what's new. I heard a new Firebolt is coming out sometime this month." He cut up the rest of the egg and ate it. "Will you be needing anything?"

The flame that formed Narcissa's face showed her thinking hard. "At Diagon Alley?" she repeated. "No, I don't think so. But I do need you to pick something up at Muggle London."

Draco raised an eyebrow at that. "What would you want from Muggle London?" he asked, puzzled.

"There's this shop called Burberry. I want you to pick up a trench coat that I ordered three days ago."

Draco's eyebrows furrowed thoughtfully. "A trench coat? Since when did you wear trench coats, Mother?" He could see his mother rolling her eyes through the flames.

"Since I saw your father eyeing that witch we saw at Flourish and Blotts the last time the two of us were there."

Draco could almost feel his mother seething in anger, and he suppressed a laugh. His mother always loved overreacting. "All right, Mother," he said, with a smirk. "I'll go pick up your trench coat for you. I suppose it's in black?"

The expression on the flames softened. "Yes, yes, of course," Narcissa answered absently. "Tell them you want Narcissa Malfoy's order. I've already paid for the clothing two days ago." Draco heard the door behind her open, and Narcissa turned her head briefly. "Your father's here." Lucius grunted from behind to acknowledge his son. "Please step out of the house, Draco Malfoy. You'll turn stale."

The flames crackled and his mother's face disappeared from the fireplace. Draco thoughtfully chewed on the remaining piece of toast, before deciding that he'd go about his day in an impromptu manner. He stood up and walked over to the closet at one side of his room to select his attire for the day.

**********

_These Muggle ice pops are pretty tasty_, Draco thought to himself as he strolled down the streets of London, searching for the shop his mother had named. He took a lick at the ice pop before the slowly melting sweet could drip to his hand. He looked left and right, but could not spot the shop. In the end, he decided that the only way he could find out was to ask a random Muggle.

He carefully chose which Muggle to ask, and settled on a petite brunette who seemed to be doing nothing with her time but leisurely walking her dog.

"Pardon me, miss," he drawled in the voice that he knew every girl in Hogwarts had found sexy.

The girl glanced up from her dog and blinked a few times, dazzled by the appearance of so divine a specimen of man. She nearly melted when Draco flashed her one of his smiles. "Y-yes?" she managed to stammer, shyly pushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but do you know where I might find the shop called Burberry?" Draco fought hard to stop himself from laughing at the poor, flustered girl as she tried her best to look pretty for him. Instead, he gave another encouraging smile. _There must be a shortage of handsome Muggle men, if this girl's reaction is to be any indication_.

_Or I'm just really that handsome_.

He mentally rolled his eyes at how conceited he was.

"Uhm," the girl muttered. "Yes. It's back in the direction where you came from." She lifted a finger to point. "See that corner with the hydrant? You turn right at that and walk a bit. You should find Burberry not far down the street." She licked her lips as Draco's hair fell to his eyes while he followed the trail her finger pointed. "Uhm… Do you need me to accompany you?"

Draco turned back to her and smiled again. His naughty side was at work, and without a second thought he patted her cheek with his hand. "I appreciate the offer, Miss…"

"Katie." The girl blushed a fuming red at the feel of his hand on her cheek.

"… Katie," he acknowledged with a nod. "But I think I could make it from here. Your instructions aren't that complicated." He dropped his hand and stooped down to pat the dog on her leash, before standing up and facing her again. "Thank you."

He walked away from the girl, who had remained red and frozen, and had to fight hard to not run to the corner. He had to escape her sight and laugh at how she had reacted to him. It was mean, yes, but it was definitely fun. _Muggles, _he thought to himself.

Once he had rounded the corner, his lips twitched in silent laughter, and he stopped for ten seconds to compose himself. That done, he resumed his walk, again looking left and right for the shop. He spotted it not soon after, and gladly walked inside to seek shelter from the sunlight after throwing the used popsicle stick in the trash bin located just outside.

The first thing he saw when he had gone through the doors was a suspiciously familiar-looking head of chestnut hair.

_Please, you've got to be kidding me…_

But, as he had suspected, the woman he had seen was none other than Hermione Granger, the same girl he had seen just the previous night. He sidestepped her to avoid any encounter before she could turn and see him, immediately ducking behind the first pillar he could see.

He was not avoiding her for shame that she would see him in a Muggle place twice in a row, no.

In fact, it was the other way around. It was to avoid seeing her and to get rid of the unfamiliar stirring in the pit of his stomach.

_Damn_.

For some reason, he seemed to be really attracted to the Mudblood. The white blouse she wore just made him feel the urge to strip her of her top. The khaki pencil skirt she was wearing showed off her nicely-shaped legs, which really didn't help him any, either. _Goddammit, Draco Malfoy_, he admonished himself._ You're checking out the fucking Mudblood, for crying out loud!_

He took three deep breaths and looked down at his crotch, making sure the beginnings of his erection was not visible to the eyes of anyone who might be looking. How he wished for a cold shower right at that moment.

Forcing a schooled expression on his face, he looked over his shoulder and made sure Hermione was facing in the opposite direction before walking to the counter. "I'm Draco Malfoy," he said as quietly but as clearly as he could to the spectacled woman managing the cashier. "I'm here to pick up a trench coat ordered by Narcissa Malfoy."

The woman at the counter pushed her glasses, which had been slipping, back to her eyes and took a look at Draco. "Her son, I take it?" she asked.

Unlike the girl with the dog, she did not appear to be fazed by his looks, which he really appreciated at the moment. He had to get out of here as fast as he could. "Yeah," he answered, already starting to feel less stressed.

"Yes, she did say her son was picking it up." The lady, whose nameplate said "Rose," stood up from her chair. "Please wait a moment, Mr. Malfoy, while I retrieve your mother's purchase from our storeroom." She stood up and walked to a door concealed behind a shelf, leaving him, Hermione, the guard at the door and two other salesladies.

Despite himself, Draco found his eyes straying to the witch to his right, who was busy admiring a mannequin which wore a cream-colored coat with a matching green scarf. He knew it would probably look good on her.

From behind, no one would have guessed that she was the same Hermione Granger who always carried books around wherever she went. Her semi-tamed hair, which was really the main reason why he had not recognized her the previous night, was long and flowy, reaching a little below the imaginary bra-line Draco had set.

The fact that her body had changed miraculously since she had graduated from Hogwarts did him in. The white long-sleeved blouse she was wearing had pleats down the front, and though it did not quite hug her body so tightly, it was enough for him to appreciate the view. Somehow, he had never imagined that Hermione Granger's chest would be quite endowed.

_Hogwarts should get rid of the robes and the sweaters_.

He cursed the blouse.

His eyes trailed down her long, bare legs, then back up to her buttocks. Now _that_ was hugging quite nicely. He could almost imagine how firm they would feel in his hands. Those rounded cheeks should be fun to—

He heard a soft giggle from somewhere behind him. The salesladies were apparently checking him out as he was checking out his former classmate.

At that moment, the counter lady—Rose—returned from the storeroom carrying a paper bag. "Here's your mother's trench coat, Mr. Malfoy," she said, taking it out of the bag to show him the contents before putting it back in and handing it to him over the counter. "We look forward to having you shop with us in the future."

Draco nodded and gave her an honest, "I imagine you'll find my mother here from time to time," before turning for the door. Hermione was nowhere to be seen anymore. She must have left just at the moment Rose returned.

He exited the door and found her walking not too far along.

_Ahh, to hell with it._

"Granger!"

Hermione stopped in her tracks at the sound of Draco's voice. She turned around with a disbelieving expression on her face, eyebrows furrowed together in obvious confusion. "Malfoy?" she asked incredulously when she saw him.

Draco closed the distance between them in a few strides. "Fancy meeting you here," he said.

Hermione blinked, still unable to grasp the fact that she was, once again, with Draco Malfoy. In Muggle London. "I should be the one to say that." She noted that he was again wearing dark colors. Then again, she couldn't have imagined him wearing otherwise. He was wearing a dark gray sweater with a black coat thrown on top, and the denims he wore this time weren't blue but black.

Shaking her head to get rid of the "Malfoy's pretty hot" thoughts that were once again creeping into her brain, Hermione forced a serious expression. "Attempting to be civil, Malfoy?"

Draco smirked at her bossiness. He used to hate that attitude of hers when they were still at school, but now it just added to the fire that was burning within him. A fire which he was eager to quench, but cannot seem to find the strength to do so.

_I seriously haven't gotten laid for far too long for me to react this way to Granger…_

"As a matter of fact, I am," he replied, and was rewarded by a suspicious look from the Gryffindor.

"Why?" came Hermione's distrustful question.

He shrugged, not really knowing why he was bothering, either. "Maybe I just want to enjoy your company, eh?" He nodded towards her watch. "What time is it, Granger?"

She cast him yet another dark and wary look, but shook off her sleeve and looked at the hands on her clock. "2:14," she said after a while. She put her arm down and faced him. "Going somewhere?"

"Diagon Alley. You?"

She hesitated, but answered after a while. "Diagon Alley as well."

"Perfect." Draco took hold of her by the elbow and semi-dragged her across the street. He knew it was just an excuse to touch her skinny arm and see how it felt to hold her. The contact sent shivers down to his groin, and he knew he had to stop himself somehow before his hormones went out of control.

"Wait! Malfoy!" Hermione jerked her arm back. "I could walk perfectly fine by myself, thank you." She fixed the rumpled sleeve and threw her hair back, which only succeeded in getting her stray lock back down her face. Muttering a small curse, she forced the hair behind her ear, and was glad to find that it stayed put for once.

Draco honestly thought she should have just let it be.

"Okay," Hermione said, resuming their walk. "Let's go."

And so the unusual pair headed to the Leaky Cauldron, where they could enter Diagon Alley.

**********

**Author's Note: Forgive me! I know, I know, it's inexcusable. But I'm going to excuse myself, anyway. Sorry for the delay in the upload. I had so many tests at school, plus thesis data gathering.**

**PLUS. There was that typhoon that was here last September 26. So many places in our country were flooded. I think like 25 provinces, plus a few cities. And when I say flooded I mean above the neck. I didn't get to go home last 26****th**** because the area outside the train station near our place was like a sea, and I'm short so I would have drowned had I tried to swim through. Gladly, our house wasn't flooded. There were other houses that were really submerged, though, which is really sad.**

**ANYWAY. There's my excuse! Hahaha. To make up for it, here's a chapter that's a bit longer than the previous ones. I'll work on the next chapter ASAP. And I mean like a little later. :D**


	4. Unfeasible: Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Draco Malfoy (as much as I, and a lot of other ladies, want to) or Hermione Granger. The only aspects of this fic that I own are the characters you don't recognize from the book, and the plot. All other credit goes to JK Rowling.**

_Chapter 4_

Hermione sat at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, waiting for Draco Malfoy to get back. He had told her he needed to owl the package he was holding, which she had noticed belatedly was from Burberry, to his Mum. He had also told her to get him a Mint Chocolate Sundae Deluxe, and she was so disoriented she ended up doing just what he had told her to do.

She wondered while she slowly picked on the strawberry on her Strawberry Sundae if Draco had any plans of getting back, or if he had left her there to look stupid, waiting for no one.

She did not know what to think. Somehow, she dreaded Draco's return.

He was still an arrogant prat. That fact did not escape her even for a moment. She could tell he still harbored the same, if subdued, elitist sentiments he had always had as a teenager, which she really hated with fervor. However, she could also tell that there was a dangerous type of chemistry between the two of them now. It was obvious in the way that his eyes kept straying to places he normally would not even think of looking at, and he was not even bothering to hide the fact.

And, as much as she hated to admit it, she had been doing her own share of staring.

She shivered. Malfoy was not someone she wanted this sexual tension with.

She was in the act of taking a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth when Draco returned. It somewhat surprised her that he actually did come back. She was half-expecting him to stand her up. Oh, the good old more-explosive-but-less-complicated days of Hogwarts.

Draco sat down on the seat opposite her, taking the spoon laid down beside his ice cream. "You look surprised, Granger," he started, taking a chunk of chocolate and putting it in his mouth.

"I was half-expecting you to not return at all," she replied honestly. "I can't say the past years have provided enough distraction for me to forget what a huge git you were as a kid."

He threw her a dark look very similar to the ones she used to get from him back at school. "And you're as snotty as ever, Gryffindork."

Hermione scoffed. "You're one to talk." She rolled her eyes, praying to the heavens for patience. "You really have to be so immature at this age, don't you, Malfoy? Honestly." The more she thought about it, the more it dawned on her that the setup of her and Draco in Florean Fortescue's was wrong in the first place. In fact, the setup of her and Draco together _anywhere_ willingly was just plain wrong. "Why did I even bother agreeing to stay with you?"

Draco leaned back in his seat, admiring the view of the incensed Gryffindor. "You just couldn't resist me, Granger." He watched as her face darkened with a scowl, thinking of how much passion that anger would have translated into. He had to close his eyes to stop his inner demon from forming more suggestive thoughts, and opened them again after a while to find that she had stared in the other direction. "You may leave if you want," he teased.

Hermione looked at him, hating him more and more. "No, thank you. I want to prove that I can be civil in the presence of someone as vile as you."

Draco leaned in so quickly, she had to move back a bit in surprise. "Really, now?" he asked as if daring her to prove it. "You want to see vile?"

_Damn. I seriously have to take control of these hormones_, was the thought running through his head, but his _other_ head was being more dominant at the moment.

His eyes trailed down the collar of her blouse, popping one button in his imagination and making it obvious to her that _that_ was what he was thinking about. The next thing he knew, his left cheek stung from the slap she had given him.

"_Really_, Malfoy?" Hermione demanded. "You're one horny bastard, you know that?" She tried to keep her voice as low as she could, but the couple at the neighboring table was already looking at them with raised eyebrows. "I can't believe how sick you are."

Sure, _she_ had been staring, too, but she had not been undressing him with her eyes! All the checking out was _faintly _amusing, and even flattering, until Draco decided to take it to another level.

_Asshole!_ Hermione thought. Nevertheless, she sat back down, trying to cool her head. "You know what, Malfoy," she said, "I'm just going to sit here and finish my sundae, after which I leave you." She began to focus her attention on the poor treat that was in front of her.

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed, knowing he was at fault for Hermione's foul mood. Keeping his hormones in check, he once again leaned back on his seat, taking his sundae off the table. "Fine. I'll stop," he said, earning a raised eyebrow from Hermione. "Don't get too cocky, Granger. I'm not going to lay my hands on you for real. Not you."

Hermione didn't know whether to be pleased or to be insulted, so after another dark look at Draco she just shook her head and sighed, concentrating on her sundae.

"So, Granger," Draco said after a while, breaking the silence despite Hermione's obvious desire to stay quiet the entire time. "How come I don't see you around St. Mungo's anymore?"

Hermione looked up in surprise. For one, she was counting on just plain civil silence. For another… Malfoy used to see her at St. Mungo's?

"What?" she asked. "You see me at St. Mungo's? Wait… You mean you actually spend an adequate amount of time at St. Mungo's to actually wonder why you don't see me anymore?"

Draco shrugged, taking another spoonful of his sundae. "I go to St. Mungo's from time to time," he said vaguely. "I used to see you walking around in those apprentice Healer's robes. Recently, though, I haven't." He looked at Hermione's raised eyebrow. It seemed to be rising quite a number of times that day. "I'm trying to make decent conversation, Granger. Conversations seem to make you happier, and not being ogled at."

Trying not to react at his comment about being ogled, Hermione brushed her hair away from her face. "It's that time of the year for apprentice Healers," she replied. "My internship is over, and I'm just waiting for the licensure exam season to arrive.

"What about you, Malfoy?" she asked. "Why would you be spending time at St. Mungo's? Are you taking medication?" She looked at him up and down, but could see nothing wrong with his health.

"I thought we were done with the checking out, Granger," Draco teased.

Hermione blushed for the nth time, then puffed her cheeks indignantly, faced the other direction, and refused to talk to him altogether.

**********

Hermione looked warily behind her, eyeing the wizard walking a few paces back. After their sundaes at Florean Fortescue's, a heated argument about Pureblood elitism—yes, she began to talk again sometime in the afternoon without her noticing—a trip to Flourish and Blotts to get Hermione's order of books, going to Madame Malkin's to have Draco buy new robes, passing by Quality Quidditch Supplies to check out the new Firebolt, and grabbing a bite to eat at the Leaky Cauldron, Draco Malfoy volunteered to bring her home.

At first, Hermione had refused, still suspicious of her old enemy and his seeming willingness to get along with her, but Draco insisted for God knows what reason. In the end, she accepted the offer. They were supposed to Apparate to her flat, but it was rush hour, and too many people were roaming the streets of Muggle London.

So they walked.

Hermione found herself wondering—for the billionth time in the day—just how she came to spend half her day with Draco Malfoy. There was a moment during the day when she suddenly remembered that he had been one of the Death Eaters, but common sense reminded her that that happened years ago, and that the Dark Lord would never return again. There was no more reason to fear the Death Eaters.

"You know," she said suddenly, making Draco look up at her from the ground he had been so busy examining. The patterns on the sidewalk were simply interesting. "You really don't have to bring me home."

Draco shrugged. "That's the fourth time you've told me. I've already volunteered to do so, haven't I?" He glanced up at the dark evening sky when he felt a droplet of liquid hit his right cheek. "Is it… Drizzling?" He held out a hand in front of him, palm up, and felt more droplets of water fall. He was already reaching for the wand in his pocket, his mind made up about using a charm to make himself waterproof, when Hermione stopped him.

"Don't be stupid, Malfoy," she said, rummaging for something in her bag. "You see how many Muggles there are around us."

"We could always _Obliviate _them, Granger."

She threw him a look that told him to shut up then looked back into her bag. Finally, she took out her umbrella, which had hidden itself in the bottom. "There. It's small, but it would fit both of us."

Draco looked carefully at the umbrella. "An umbrella, Granger? Seriously? An umbrella, when you have magic?" he scoffed.

"We are in a Muggle place full of Muggles, Malfoy," she replied exasperatedly, looking pointedly at the Muggle right behind him who was attempting to hail a cab. "Now, get into the umbrella."

Sighing resignedly, Draco stepped into the tiny dry circle provided by Hermione's black, folding umbrella. Without a word, he brought his hand up to take the handle from her, his hand covering hers. He felt Hermione stiffen beside him, and loosened his grip. "Let go, Granger. I'm not going to let a girl hold up an umbrella for me."

Hermione's hand instantly fell to her side and let go of the breath she didn't even know she was holding. It was the first time she and Draco had ever made any hand contact, and it felt… Electric. She could find no other word to describe the sensation. Her breath hitched in her chest and she let out another puff of air.

Draco looked at her from the corner of his right eye, watching as her expression changed from confused to embarrassed. He had tried so hard the whole day to keep his thoughts away from how attractive the witch he was with actually was, and succeeded. Now, because he had not been thinking when he plucked the umbrella out of her hands, the sensations came back. He had felt a tingle in his palm when it came in contact with the back of her hand, and all of a sudden something seemed to be blocking his throat.

He cleared it, thinking the feeling might go away, but it did not. Instead, he forced himself to concentrate on the path they were taking. "You lead the way, Granger," he said, his voice sounding a little faint in his ears. "I don't know where to go."

They walked in silence as the water continued to pour in a steady drizzle, with Hermione tugging him this way and that. At last, they arrived at a respectable-looking small building that had stairs leading up to the front door. They walked up the stairs and Hermione swung the door open, taking the umbrella from his hand and folding it.

"Would you like to come in, Malfoy?" she asked, wanting to offer him something in exchange for walking her home.

Draco didn't want to. He didn't trust himself with her. The attraction he was feeling was too strong, he wasn't sure of what he would end up doing if he had to walk into a room with only him and Hermione inside. "No, thank you," he declined, a bit too politely. "It's about time I get home, too. I have to check my owls, in case something important came up at work."

"Oh." Hermione nodded, grateful that he had declined. "All right, then. Well, you may Disapparate from inside, if you want."

"Uhhh… No, I don't think so," Draco replied, cursing her silently for being so inviting. "I think I'll just find a spot out here where no one would be looking."

Hermione looked uncertainly at the sky. "But, Malfoy, it's raining." She looked at him as he shrugged carelessly, and then shook her head. "Here," she said, handing back the umbrella to him. "Use it."

Draco tried refusing her by saying "No. I'm fine, really," but Hermione would not take no for an answer.

"I could always buy a new one, Malfoy. Umbrellas aren't exactly hard to come by." She pushed the umbrella firmly in his hands.

He finally agreed. He gave her one last peculiar look and a nod of the head before turning around and walking back the direction they had come from.

Hermione watched until he was no longer within her range of vision, then closed the door and headed to her room. It took her a while to get the key in the keyhole, but eventually she managed. The first thing she did was place the books she had ordered down on the floor, after which she rushed to her couch and then fell onto its plush softness.

She could still feel the tingling at the back of her hand, and she cursed herself for it.

_Damn it, Hermione Granger! Will you stop acting like that! That's Draco Malfoy, dear. Draco fucking Malfoy._

She sighed and closed her eyes. Her only comfort was that she never had to see Draco Malfoy again. Not unless another one of those chance meetings occur, and she fervently hoped that they did not.

_Because damned if I know what I'm going to do with him the next time he shows up looking spectacularly gorgeous._

**********

Draco walked along the streets of Muggle London, looking for a secluded spot from which he may Disapparate. Somehow, it seemed like every possible area was occupied. It seemed to him that not many Muggles had the sense to buy themselves their own umbrellas, and now they had to cramp into whatever covered area they could manage to find just so they could avoid getting wet.

When he did find a suitable gap between two buildings, though, it was occupied by a raunchy pair of teenagers who were groping each other in the dark. In his mind, the image of the girl changed from the raunchy redhead to a certain bossy brown-haired Gryffindor, while the boy all of a sudden had platinum blonde hair, but he ignored it.

_Fuck this_.

Shaking his head, he walked on until he found another small street. Thankfully, this time it was deserted. He looked both ways to make sure no Muggle was looking before Disapparating.

The next moment, he was standing outside the Malfoy grounds. He walked over to the gate and placed his palm on the ornate "M" etched on it, and the gate automatically swung open for him. It was not raining in the area, and so he started to fold the umbrella while walking to their front door. A house elf came running out to meet him and take whatever was in his hands, but he only gave the package containing his newly-bought robes. Hermione's umbrella he did not let go of.

He entered the main doors to find his mother walking around in her new trench coat.

"Draco, darling!" Narcissa exclaimed, looking a bit embarrassed at being caught examining her reflection in one of the vases by their grand staircase. "I didn't think you'd ever get home." She walked gracefully toward her son and gave him a peck on the cheek. "What do you think? Does it suit me?"

Draco smirked at his Mother's childish delight at her new attire. "I think it suits you, Mother," he replied. "You look quite Muggle, but a pretty Muggle at that. I must say, I'm lucky I have the genes I do."

Narcissa smiled satisfactorily at his compliment. "Wait until your father sees me in this. That ought to teach him not to look at other women."

Draco chuckled and gave his mother a loving kiss on the forehead. "You always overreact, Mother. You know Father loves you. He may not be eloquent at expressing it, but you know he does." _Then again, Lucius never has been eloquent at expressing anything at all. Except for cruelty, perhaps._

Yes, Lucius was a cruel man. He was everything the newspapers portrayed him to be. He was everything he was accused of. The fall of the Dark Lord had hurt his pride greatly, but he would never let anybody see that. He still held the same contempt for Muggles and Mudbloods, but now he had no choice but to tolerate them. The years since the fall have lightened his disposition considerably, but to the world outside the four walls of the Malfoy Manor he was still the same old Lucius Malfoy.

Pride, wealth, and lineage were the only things Lucius Malfoy had a grip on anymore, and he would not do anything to change how other people viewed him. He fed on the fear that they had of him. They were always afraid that he might do something horrible to innocent people and their families, and only he, Draco and Narcissa knew that they were empty fears.

He would no longer do harm to anyone, but no one else had to know that. Fear was good for the family's reputation.

"Speaking of Father," Draco said. "Where is he?"

"I think he's at the Ministry, dear," she said absently before smiling fondly at her son. "Are you hungry, Draco? Shall I ask Libby to prepare supper for you?"

Draco considered it, but decided against getting any food. "I had something to eat at the Leaky Cauldron, Mother, so I think I'll just go back up to my room." He gave his mother another kiss on the forehead and started up the stairs. "Oh," he added, calling out to his mother who was already on her way to the kitchen. "Have Libby send up a cup of tea, though. It was freezing in Muggle London."

He saw his mother give a look that portrayed bewilderment at his being in Muggle London in the evening when he had already owled her package during the early afternoon, but ignored it and went up to his room.

Not long after he arrived in his room, took off his coat, and lounged in the chair facing his big window, he heard a crack that meant Libby had arrived with his tea. The house elf settled the tray on the coffee table to his right, and then disappeared back to the kitchen.

Draco picked up the cup and absently placed a lump of sugar in it. He was pleased to note the hint of mint coming from the tea, and was glad that his house elf finally learned how to make his tea right. As he stared off into the night sky, looking at the moon which shone high above the hills, his thoughts flew back to the day that he had just had.

He had not expected himself to have fun, but surprisingly he did. He actually enjoyed himself while in the company of the Mudblood, Granger. Sure, there were those moments when they went at each other's throats like the good old days, but even those were enjoyable. He found that their debates challenged his intellect, and had to admit that there were points in their arguments when he almost agreed with her.

For the first time in his life, he had tried to avoid contact with Hermione not because she was a Muggleborn, but because of his undeniable attraction to her. When he had accidentally touched her hand as he was walking her home, he had refrained from shivering in pleasure. The effect that she had on him was unlike any that other witches made him feel. There was the physical part that told him he had to get laid, but there was also that sense of the forbidden. House rivalries were never easy to get over; add to that the Pureblood-Mudblood conflict. The two of them getting together was definitely taboo.

And it excited him.

He had to get away from her and make sure never to interact with her again until a time comes when he was sure she would no longer have any effect on him. Every passing minute he spent with her only made her more irresistible in his eyes, and that attraction was definitely dangerous.

He looked sideways at the umbrella he had left lying on the floor and groaned. Closing his eyes, he tried to force away any thoughts of the brown-haired girl so that he could sip his tea in peace.

**********

**Author's Note: There! Chapter 4! I already have an idea of what I'd do for Chapter 5, but only for a small part. :D**

**Classes are resuming tomorrow, after being suspended for a week due to the typhoon that wreaked havoc all over the Philippines. Which means… Lessons again! Bah. I have two exams this coming week, so I might not be able to upload Chapter 5 as quickly, but we could always hope for the best. :D**


	5. Unfeasible: Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Draco Malfoy (as much as I, and a lot of other ladies, want to) or Hermione Granger. The only aspects of this fic that I own are the characters you don't recognize from the book, and the plot. All other credit goes to JK Rowling.**

_Chapter 5_

_Lasagna… AND baked macaroni. Whole freaking platters of them._

Hermione stared helplessly as her mother lay down two big containers of pasta on her table. Her parents had informed her that they wanted to visit her for dinner, so she had done everything she wanted to do in the morning. First thing she did was go jogging at 6 in the morning. After resting up at home and taking a good long shower, she headed to the spa to have a massage and to have her nails manicured and pedicured. She then met up with a couple of Muggle friends who wanted to go shopping. And, yes, she already bought a new umbrella.

She was home well before 4 in the afternoon, with enough time to tidy up her place for her parents. When they did arrive at 5, the first things she laid her eyes on were the two glass containers in her mother's hands, clearly carrying pasta.

_My jogging this morning will be for naught, I suppose…_

"Mum," she pleaded again for the fifth time that afternoon. "Why so much food?"

Her mother gave her a look that only mothers could manage, one that told her to shut up and be a good girl and let mommy do what it takes to make everything better. "Do you see how skinny you are, Hermione?" She gestured up and down her daughter's body with one hand, while the other removed the cling-wrap from the platter of lasagna. "I have to feed you! Are you sure you have no sleeping or eating disorders?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Positive," she replied. She loved her mother very much, and everything she did was sweet and all… _But TWO kinds of pasta in large containers?!_

Her father emerged from the bathroom, looking both amused and apologetic. "I told her, you know," he said defensively when Hermione looked at him for help.

Hermione sighed resignedly. She knew there was no stopping her mother when she decided to be motherly, but one could always try. She shook her head and smiled despite herself, reaching into her cupboard to pull out plates and utensils.

"So, Mum, why the sudden visit?"

Her mother reached out to pat her cheek and smiled. "I've missed you, baby. You're all grown up now."

Hermione laughed. "You've been telling me that for four years," she said as she laid the plates on the placemats her father had put on the table. She reached into her fridge to take out a pitcher of orange juice she had prepared before her parents arrived and put it between the two platters of pasta. Her mother had already taken out three glasses and placed them beside the plates.

"You mother couldn't help herself," her father answered. "And I understand how she feels. You're our only child, and somehow I still couldn't figure out how you're now suddenly working to earn money for yourself."

"Then again," her mother said. "You've always been a hardworking girl. It's no surprise you can now support yourself."

Hermione motioned for both her parents to sit down before sitting herself. "Oh, Mum, Dad… Why do we always have this conversation every time you come over?" The last time her parents had visited, her mother had left teary-eyed. And that was only less than two weeks ago. The visit before that, her mother had actually wanted to stay with her for a week. It took a bit of convincing before she finally consented to have her husband bring her home.

"I don't like having sad conversations when you're here," Hermione continued.

Her father shrugged at her mother, who sighed dramatically.

Hermione gave in and just laughed. "Why I have to be treated like a baby when I'm already 21 is beyond me, but what the heck. It's your sickening sweetness that keeps me going, Mum." She innocently took a huge lump of macaroni and a square of lasagna as her mother gave her a joking glare for her sarcasm.

"How's work, darling?" her mother asked, forking a bit of lasagna before placing it in her mouth. "We haven't really gotten around to talking to Dirk. How many days has it been since you started working for him?"

"13 days, I believe," Hermione replied, eyeing the cream cheese that was oozing off the top of her lasagna. "Dr. Emerson has been very nice. There's lots of work to be done, of course, but he never demands anything beyond what was in the contract."

Her father cleared her throat. "Knowing _you_, though…"

"Yes, yes," Hermione added defeatedly before her father could say it. "I still do extra work." Her mother gave her a reproachful look, which she waved off with her hand. "Oh, come now, Mum. I don't overexert myself… I _don't!_" she insisted as her mother continued to stare. "You worry too much."

Her mother shook her head. "I'll believe, you, darling, if that's what you tell me."

They spent a few moments of silence just eating their food, until her father broke it.

"So, uhhh…" He looked uncertainly at his daughter, then at his wife, then back at his daughter. "How's the sex life—"

"Dad!"

"_Honey_!"

"—I mean, love life. How's the love life going? Come on, Hermione. I just want to know." He forced a gulp of orange juice to push the macaroni stuck in his throat. "You and Ron still going out?"

Hermione shook her head, slightly embarrassed. She still couldn't bring up the subject of boyfriends in front of her parents, for some reason. More so the subject of her sex life, if she had any. "No," she answered. "Ron and I aren't together anymore. The relationship was too toxic, too…"

"Explosive?" her mother asked.

"Exactly," she said with a nod of her head. "Explosive. Thank you, Mum, for providing the perfect word to describe my first and only relationship with a boy." She deliberated a bit on whether to take a bite of macaroni or of lasagna, and decided on macaroni. "Don't get me wrong, though. We're still friends. I haven't seen him in a while, but we owl each other from time to time. And we have both decided that it's better for us this way."

Her father gave her another obvious look. He never had been able to hide his thoughts well. "I see," he said.

"No, Dad," Hermione said before he could even open his mouth to ask. "Harry is out of the question, too. The three of us are just best friends. Besides, I just met up with Harry last week, and he asked for help in looking for an engagement ring for Ginny."

"Ginny?" her mother asked, clearly not recalling any girl named Ginny.

"Yes, Mum," Hermione replied. "Ginny. Ron's younger sister."

"Oh! That lovely young dear with lots of freckles."

Hermione almost laughed. "Yes, the girl with a lot of freckles. I can't determine from your tone of voice whether you're fond of the freckles or not."

Her mother waved her fork around as she tried her best to be expressive. "Oh, no, no. I love the freckles. They look lovely on her. It's just that… Well, have you ever seen more freckles, honey?" She turned to look at her husband.

"Not on anyone else I've met, dear," he replied. "Amazing how so many freckles can turn out so beautifully on one face, eh?"

Hermione laughed, glad that the conversation had gone to something more fun. They spent a good amount of time at the dinner table talking about her work and the patients who visit the clinic, as well as the occasional reviews she was doing for the licensure exam. They also covered the topic of extending the backyard at their home to accommodate her mother's newfound interest in gardening and her father's sudden interest in carpentry.

_Oh, mid-life crisis, you've done it_, Hermione thought with a smile as she stared at her parents' excited faces. Well, let them do what they want. They deserve to have fun.

**********

Three hours later, Hermione was leading her parents to the door. They had washed the dishes together and then sat at the living room to do a bit more talking

"Are you sure you'll be fine, dear?" her mother asked for the 10,000th time, and she assured her once again that she would be.

"Of course, I will, Mum," Hermione gave her mother a peck on the cheek. "Worry yourself too much and your garden would not turn out great. You're not exactly green-thumbed, and if you worry too much about me you won't be able to concentrate on your plants."

Her mother rolled her eyes at her. "Honey, your daughter is making fun of me."

Hermione laughed and embraced both of them. "I'll be fine, Mum. Dad, you take care of Mum, okay?"

"Of course, Master," her father joked as he led his wife out to where the cab they had called was waiting. They both waved her another goodbye before the cab drove away.

Hermione sighed, glad that the chaos was over but still somewhat sad that she was now, once again, alone. She looked at the wall clock hanging on top of her couch. It was 8:30 and it was time to hit the bed. Oh, how she hated Sunday evenings. Sunday evenings always meant she had to sleep early in order to wake up early, even though what she really wanted to do was stay up late.

She walked to her bedroom to change into her sleeping attire. Pulling out a white tank top and pajama bottoms which were in stripes of pink, orange, white and yellow, she walked into her bathroom.

She had barely washed up and put her clothes on, though, when the bell started to ring. After ten seconds of wondering who could be at her door, she finally walked out of her bathroom to answer it, picking up a white cardigan on the way. A look at the clock told her it was almost 9, and as she was turning the knob she still couldn't figure out who would be paying her a visit that late.

_Who on earth—?_

She blinked for a few seconds at the person standing outside, thinking maybe her eyes just needed to focus a bit. One of her hands went up to her head and scratched without her realizing it. When she did notice that her hand was scratching at something that was not even remotely itchy, she began to feel stupid.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" she asked when she finally found her voice.

Draco stared back at her, suddenly forgetting why he _was_ there. "Ah… Uhm…" He looked down at his hands and saw the umbrella he was holding, and finally he remembered. "I came to return your umbrella."

Hermione licked at her lips, feeling that they had suddenly gone dry. "But… Why? I told you I could easily buy a new one, and I have."

_Yes, Draco_, he said to himself, agreeing with Hermione for the first time. _Why, indeed?_

Shaking herself back to consciousness, she stepped back and gave him space to pass through. "Get in, Malfoy. You look like your freezing. Who doesn't wear a coat at this time of night?"

Draco reluctantly stepped into her door, finding that he was already feeling warmer and knowing it was not because he was finally inside a warm house. He followed as she led the way to her living room and motioned for him to take the couch. "Thanks," he said, thrusting the umbrella at her.

Hermione was still a bit disoriented by his sudden appearance at her doorstep. "I've already gotten myself a new one, Malfoy. Keep it."

"I don't really need an umbrella, Granger," he replied, already starting to recover his usual smugness. "I could always place a charm on me. I don't really frequent Muggle London to need to keep an umbrella."

Hermione rolled her eyes, now feeling frustrated at herself for even inviting him in. "Yeah, Malfoy, which is why I've been seeing you here three days in a row already."

He was about to retort, but decided against it. He wasn't really feeling up to having an argument with Hermione. Besides, it was hard to concentrate on much of anything besides the way that the tank top she was wearing fit her body so snugly. He almost cried in dismay when she pulled her cardigan tighter over herself, as if sensing that he was looking.

"Do you want anything, Malfoy?" Hermione asked. She had expected him to bite back at her, and all sorts of remarks were already running around her head, but he decided to play civil and that meant she had to as well.

"Bourbon?" he tested.

"Ahh," Hermione replied with a nod. "Tea it is, then." She turned her back to him and walked to the kitchen. Once out of sight of Draco, she leaned against her fridge and closed her eyes, bringing up one hand to her chest. She could feel each pump of her heart, and pleaded for it to slow down.

He was wearing black again. Black had always been his color, but she had never really appreciated it, until that night when he showed up at Cecconi's and tried to hit on her. She hated how simply seeing him could send her mind reeling. How she really wished they were back at Hogwarts, where they had felt nothing for each other but pure loathing.

She opened her eyes and forced herself to inhale and exhale. _God, Hermione… Relax. Breathe…_ Standing up straight, she headed for the cupboard to get two mugs. She stopped for a while in front of her collection of tea bags, trying to decide which one Draco would prefer.

_I would say… Mint, I think_.

She grabbed two bags of her mint tea, placed one in each mug, then poured hot water in it from the airpot standing by her sink. She walked back to her living room, concentrating on not spilling the contents of the mug.

Draco just sat back and enjoyed the view. Her eyebrows furrow and she bites her lips when under concentration, he discovered, and he, unfortunately, found lip-biting extremely sexy on women. When she bent over and placed the mugs down on the table in front of him, he realized that she must have been preparing for bed when he arrived.

_Because there is definitely no brassiere under that tank top. No wonder she keeps pulling that sweater around her._

"I picked out mint," he heard her say. "You look like you're a mint person instead of a fruity one."

Draco smirked and reached out for one of the mugs. "Well, would you look at that," he said. "You actually got me right, Granger." He watched with amusement as she smirked back sarcastically. Half of him was pleased that he was in her home, even though he had spent a good lot of his time trying to convince himself that he did not have to return her umbrella and that nothing good could come out of trying to come up with excuses to end up at her doorstep.

However, there he was, sitting on her couch and drinking tea she had prepared. They stared back at one another, him on the couch and her standing in front of him with her coffee table in between them, her arms crossed in front of her under her breasts.

_Yep, those breasts which are naked under that tank top. Dammit._

Hermione picked up the other mug and sipped on it, before walking towards the couch.

"Don't sit beside me, Granger," Draco warned.

Hermione stared at him indignantly, her mouth slightly open, obviously taken aback by his words. "It's my house, Malfoy," she said, one eyebrow rising. "I think I'll sit wherever I want to." She made a move to walk closer to the empty spot on the couch.

"I'm warning you," Draco said through gritted teeth. _Damn you, woman! Can you not see how distressed I already am? If you come any closer… I don't know if I could keep my hands away from you._

She obviously did not see, because she flopped down on the other end of the couch without so much as a glance at him, sipping her tea. "Shut it, Malfoy. I'm not going to let you order me around in my own home." She turned around to look at him in the face. "In fact, I'm not going to let you order me around anywhere. Who do you think you are? Do you think you're better than I am? Richer, maybe, but better?"

Draco breathed in to try to keep his composure. He took a large gulp of his tea before setting it down on the table.

"I cannot believe you haven't changed at all since we graduated. You're still the same arrogant prat—"

"And you're still a know-it-all, I see."

"—who thinks everything must go his way. Well here's a thought for you, Malfoy. The world doesn't revolve around you. You cannot keep ordering other people around as if they have no choice but to do whatever it is you tell them to do. And I, especially, will not stand for your bullying any longer—"

In one sweep, Draco had freed her hands and thrown her off balance, making her lie on her back as he hovered over her, his elbows supporting him. One of his legs was between hers, his knee pressing into the spot in between. The mug, which he had easily tapped out of her hand, rolled off on the floor, its contents spilling out and creating a trail of tea on her laminated floor.

A small part of Hermione's brain noted that it did not, thankfully, fall on her rug.

The greater part of her was busy taking in the situation. It suddenly felt very hot in the room. She could feel Draco's breath on her as they stared at one another, and she found that she could not move under that penetrating gaze. She licked her lips and forced herself to say something.

"Malfoy..." She cleared her throat and cursed her voice for choosing to sound husky right at that moment.

Draco brought his face closer to hers. "Do you know how sexy you are when you get mad?" he asked quietly.

Hermione watched as his eyes clouded over, and she unconsciously held her breath. His right hand swept lightly across her cheek before settling on her shoulder. She felt the fabric of her cardigan slide off to expose her shoulder, and arched her back when Draco leaned in to breathe on the crook of her neck and plant a soft kiss where her flesh was exposed. His knee nudged her again where she was most sensitive at the moment, and she gave a soft moan that nearly sent Draco off the edge.

Draco slid his hand up and down her arm, savoring the feel of her soft skin where the sweater did not cover it up. He groaned when Hermione shifted her leg, accidentally rubbing against the growing bulge in his pants. His grip on her arms tightened as the sensations flowing through his body overcame him, and he collapsed on top of her.

As her arms went around his back, nails digging into his shoulder blades, he brought his hands to her belly. He was pleased to note that her stomach was as firm as he had imagined it would be, yet soft enough. He slowly slid his hands up to cup her breasts, whose nipples were already beginning to show through the tank top. He watched, amused, as Hermione's eyes closed and he felt her legs clench.

Slowly, he began to plant kisses from her shoulder to her jaw line, running the tip of his tongue across the length of her neck. She smelled fresh and clean, with a subtle hint of peaches, and Draco inhaled the scent of her. She tipped her head back, allowing him to bite at the area by her collarbone, and was rewarded by the tightening of her arms on his back.

The rational part of Hermione's brain told her that this was wrong. In Ron's terms, she was now fraternizing with the enemy. The fact that it felt positively _good_ kept shooing that thought away from her head, though. She bit into Draco's earlobe when he came close enough, while he shifted their position so that his hips were between both her legs. She moaned again when he pushed into her with a hardness that was unmistakable.

"Granger," Draco whispered into her ear as he pressed his hard-on to her womanhood. Her pajama bottoms weren't that thick, and he could feel the hotness emanating from between her legs. He smirked when he felt her legs contract and her hips pushing forward to meet his. He faintly heard her whisper another breathless "Malfoy" and he groaned at the sound of her voice.

The ringing of the neighbor's phone broke the silence that filled the room, and all of a sudden Hermione felt jolted back to reality. Her eyes, which had been lidded, flew open, and her hands stopped the stroking that they had begun on Draco's hair. She was suddenly aware that Draco's hands were on her breasts and that her nipple was between his thumb and forefinger, and that her womanhood was still pressed against his manhood.

Prompted by the sudden stiffness of Hermione's body, Draco stopped suckling at her earlobe. He could clearly hear both of them panting, and instantly knew that there was no way their snogging was going to resume. Not that night, at least. Cautiously, he removed his hand from where he was fiddling with her chest and pushed himself off her. Now that he had time to focus, he noticed that her cheeks had pinked nicely, and he wanted nothing more than to bite at them.

As he extricated himself from the tangle of their limbs, Hermione pulled her sweater back to how it was supposed to be and held it in place. She could not watch as Draco stood up and arranged his hair which was in utter disarray and which, as she was reminded, had been her doing. She cleared her throat and stood up, facing her guest again when he had fixed himself up. Their eye contact reminded her of every single detail of what had transpired on her couch, and she felt like she could melt.

"You should go," she said after a while, looking the other way as she found it hard to stare into those gray eyes that seared into her.

Draco breathed out and nodded. "Yeah, I should." He reached for the umbrella that had been left forgotten on the floor and made a move for the door. He could feel her following him silently to lock the door after him, and knowing how very small the distance separating them was made him want to turn around and grab her so that he could continue where they had left off.

He stopped himself from doing so, however. When she reached out to open the door for him, he felt the heat from her body, and he shivered. Forcing himself not to do anything, he stepped out of her door and turned around to face her. She was still looking everywhere but at him, and he allowed himself a mental smirk as he watched how nervous she was.

"Thanks for the umbrella," he said, with a kind of salute.

She briefly looked up at him and met him eye to eye, before nodding and bidding him a good night. She watched as he turned his back to her and walked away, before shutting the door behind him. All her strength left her, and she leaned on the doorway to support herself. She did not want to close her eyes, for doing so made memories of what had happened play in her head over and over.

It would be a long time before she could look at her couch without remembering how she and Draco Malfoy had made out that Sunday night.

**********

**Author's Note: I read somewhere that Hermione's parents' names are Eric and Lydia, but I have no idea if it's true or what. HPL doesn't say anything about their names, so I'm thinking maybe the source I found was unreliable. So if anyone knows if those are really actually their names, please let me know. I want to edit this so that it won't be all "her father" and "her mother".**

**Also… I am terribly sorry for the extreme delay! As you know, a huge storm came and went and practically destroyed a fair number of cities and provinces here. Class schedules were extended a week, and exams were just all jumbled up. Can you believe some professors actually did not extend the deadlines of the requirements, even after a whole week of class suspension? I mean, I never got to see my groupmates during that week that we didn't have class, then all of a sudden when we got back to school we learned that the original schedule for reports and presentations were retained!**

**Plus, I kind of went into a slump because of a certain heartache I underwent. Bah. Didn't eat or sleep properly for days, I actually lost 4 lbs just because of the depression. Which is good, really, except that I would have preferred it if my heart didn't hurt so much.**

**Anyhoo, enough of that! Here's chapter 5! And I'm going to try my best to come up with chapter 6 as soon as possible. :)**


	6. Unfeasible: Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Draco Malfoy (as much as I, and a lot of other ladies, want to) or Hermione Granger. The only aspects of this fic that I own are the characters you don't recognize from the book, and the plot. All other credit goes to JK Rowling.**

_Chapter 6_

Hermione found herself the next Saturday walking through the doors of The Three Broomsticks. Harry had owled her saying he had a surprise for her. She could not, for the life of her, figure out what he was going to tell her that was so important and so surprising.

Madame Rosmerta waved at her from behind the counter and she waved back. The proprietor of the establishment gestured towards the right, and Hermione followed the direction with her eyes, finding Harry sitting in one of the corner tables with none other than Ron.

"Harry! Ron!" she cried delightedly as she ran to where they were waiting. Both boys stood up with matching grins, and she threw her arms around both of them. "Ron, I haven't seen you in forever!" She took his face in both her hands, squishing his cheeks as she regarded the change in his appearance. He looked more buffed than the last time she had seen him.

"Yurgh, H'mi'nee," Ron replied while pointing to his cheeks which Hermione still had not let go of. She let go of his face, embarrassed, then took a seat to Harry's left and Ron's right as the two boys did the same. "And I thank you for squishing my cheeks. I'm going to interpret that as you missing me so much, and not of you wanting to mangle my handsome face." He and Harry exchanged grins.

Hermione slapped at his arm playfully. "Ronald Weasley, I didn't miss you at all." She rolled her eyes at the "yeah, right" face he made at her. "Okay, fine, maybe I did miss you a bit." She laughed and turned to Harry. "And I missed you, too, Harry Potter. Though we saw each other like two or three weeks ago."

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, well, I'm the sort of guy anyone would miss easily."

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head, the smile never leaving her face. "What is up with you two? I haven't seen you for a while and all of a sudden both of you seem to be masters of sarcasm."

"Life happens, Hermione," Ron replied vaguely. "Life happens." He signaled to Madame Rosmerta for three butterbeers before turning back to his two best friends. "So Hermione, how has the clinic been?"

Hermione arranged her bag on her lap and folded her arms on the table in front of her. "Clinic has been good. Not many sick people, thank goodness, but still quite busy. But my story's not very interesting. Life's been quite monotonous." She lifted one hand to point at Ron. "You're the one who hasn't been seen in a while. What have you been doing?" She turned to Harry. "And you, Harry, said that you had a surprise for me."

"Well," Harry started. "Actually, my surprise was Ron. Ron, though, has another surprise for you." He reached out for her head and mussed up her hair.

"Well, Ron?" Hermione asked as she jokingly gave Harry a sharp look of loathing for messing up her hair. She then turned her attention to Ron. "What is it? I'm dying to hear of it. It had better be good, though, because I only like good surprises."

Ron sighed. "Well, actually, I have both good and bad surprises. I'm giving you the bad one first." He shifted in his chair to show her his left leg, which was in a cast.

"Ronald!" Hermione cried in alarm. "What on earth happened to you? Are you okay? Does it hurt?" The look of worry on Hermione's face made Ron smile in affection for his ex-girlfriend.

"It's fine," Ron shrugged casually. "It doesn't really hurt anymore. They just want to make sure the bones are back in place, so I'm keeping the cast there for another three days."

"But _what_ happened?"

"Well…" Ron said, deliberately keeping her hanging. "It happens sometimes. During training. The Cannons have a pretty rough training module." He watched as Hermione's expression went from worried to confused. "I have to endure it, though, so that I would be in the best shape by the time Quidditch season starts."

Hermione's jaw hung open. She looked at Harry before swiftly turning back to Ron. "Cannons? You mean the Chudley Cannons?" She stared as Ron nodded and shrugged as if it was nothing. "Ronald Weasley! You got into the Cannons and you didn't tell me?" She gave him an excited hug. She had been worried, but genuine happiness for him replaced that worry. He had always idolized the Chudley Cannons.

"That's kind of the point of it being a surprise, you know," Harry said. He had watched, amused, at the exchange between his two best friends. He had missed them so much. They have not gotten together like this in a long time, and it was nice seeing how nothing has changed after all that time.

Hermione laughed. "Yeah, you're right." She let go of Ron and looked back and forth between her two friends. "So, give me specifics."

She and Harry spent a good thirty minutes listening to Ron as he recounted how Lavender, whom he had gotten back with, had convinced him to try out for the Chudley Cannons, how he went to the tryouts and got himself a spot in the team as the new Keeper (since the original Keeper had retired from Quidditch at the request of his bride-to-be), and how one of the Bludgers hit his leg from behind while he was busy fending off a Quaffle during training.

Hermione flinched as Ron proceeded to describe how he had fallen off his broom from the impact, but thankfully got to grab onto the hoop of the goal post and hold on long enough for one of the team members to fly to his aid.

"This happened two days ago," Ron was saying. "They took me to St. Mungo's right away and patched me up."

"That's when Ron sent me an owl telling me where he was," Harry said, "And I rushed there as soon as I was off work."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ron. "I still don't see why you didn't tell me about it."

Ron shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't want to worry you. Besides," he said with a small smile. "I know how much you hate seeing Lavender pamper me. And I tell you, she didn't leave the hospital at all. She almost didn't let me come here without having her as chaperone, but I managed to convince her to let me go for a day."

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. "Yes, you're right. I _do_ get annoyed seeing her flitter around you like a moth to a flame." Then she laughed. "I can't believe I still haven't gotten over that reaction to seeing her." She reached for one of the tankards of hot, foaming butterbeer that Madame Rosmerta placed on their table and took a long gulp.

"Oh, I saw something strange at St. Mungo's," Ron said all of a sudden. "Malfoy was there. Apparently, he works for the hospital. Can you believe it?"

Hermione tried to fight off choking on her drink. "Malfoy?" she asked incredulously, though it was not really the surprise at hearing that he was working for the hospital. She had tried so hard the past week to forget what had transpired in her living room. She even avoided looking at her couch. She had been successful up to that point, but the mention of his name stirred something in the pit of her stomach that she did not want to entertain.

"Yes, apparently he's a researcher of some sort. I couldn't believe it either." Ron's face conveyed utter cluelessness as to what Draco actually researched about, as well as absolute astonishment that Draco was doing something worthwhile with his time. "I'd bet researchers don't do much. I find it hard to believe that Malfoy would take a job that would require a lot of hard work."

Harry nodded in agreement as he sipped his butterbeer. "In fact, he probably spends his entire day just staring at some random book, pretending he actually knew what he was doing." He and Ron did a high five and laughed together as they imagined what sort of bum Draco might be.

As much as Hermione did not want to come to their former rival's defense, she found herself explaining to both Harry and Ron. "Actually, a researcher's work is tough. They hire only certified professionals at St. Mungo's." She tapped her chin in thought. "A researcher is in charge of determining grave, undetermined illnesses, and one wrong judgement from the researcher concerning the diagnosis of the patient could result in death. Of course, the hospital would go through all sorts of measures to make sure that does not happen. They only hire the best."

She raised an eyebrow as both her best friends stared at her strangely, then shrugged. "Well," she said. "They _do _have a qualifying exam for that, and the applicant has to be superb in Potions-making. I had wanted to be a researcher, too, at one point in time." She stopped, recalling their days in Hogwarts. "Of course, I don't remember Malfoy being _exceptional_ at Potions in school, but that doesn't mean he doesn't qualify. He might have had training after graduation, say, from Professor Snape."

"Or from Astoria Greengrass," Harry said, nodding towards the window, and Ron and Hermione turned their heads at the same time to see what was outside.

Draco Malfoy was walking alongside Astoria Greengrass, a fellow student from Hogwarts who was two years their junior, as far as Hermione could remember.

"I heard she was quite gifted with Potions back in school," Harry continued. "Snape almost favored her in their year, I think."

"Hmm… Yeah," Hermione replied absently. "I think I do remember something like that." She watched as Draco led Astoria to a side street that eventually led to Hogsmeade Station, his hand wandering protectively to the small of her back as a group of raucous children ran past. Trying not to think of that little monster of jealousy growling inside her—which had no business growling its head off at that scene, she tried to convince herself—she turned back to the table.

"She's a pretty one, that," Ron said. "Too bad she hung out with the wrong set of people, eh? And too bad her older sister isn't as pretty as she is."

Harry stared up at the ceiling in thought. "Daphne, right? She's Daphne's younger sister? Yeah, she isn't quite as pretty, but you have to admit that Daphne's body is much more curvaceous."

Hermione rolled her eyes as Harry and Ron got engaged in a conversation about girls, who was pretty and who wasn't, and what was considered "hot" in a girl. "Typical, boys," Hermione muttered to herself, turning back to the window and eyeing the street Draco had entered. He was no longer in sight, and Hermione shook her head to take her mind off the couch scene back at her flat. Instead, she tried to think of how she would pamper herself the next day and what would happen when she reported to the clinic on Monday, letting the boys continue with their evaluation of girls.

* * *

Days passed, and Hermione became busy with the clinic again. The flu was working its way around town, so there were more patients than usual. Thankfully, all they needed were prescription drugs and a good amount of bed rest and fluids. The amount of people coming into the clinic, of course, amounted to more papers which she had to process, as well as store manually in the clinic computer's database.

_At least their visit descriptions barely say anything but "Flu,"_ she thought to herself at one point during the week.

When Thursday evening came, she received an owl from St. Mungo's, stating that the results for their final evaluations in the Healer Program were out, as well as the ranking given to all program participants by the hospital staff. Hermione, being the intellectual being that she was, asked for a day off from the clinic the next day so that she could go to the hospital herself and get the results as quickly as she could.

Friday noon found her walking inside the familiar halls of St. Mungo's, her feet carrying her automatically to the Human Resources department, where records of interns and professional Healers were kept. She noticed there were several new installations of statues in some of the corridors, and had to roll her eyes at how ostentatious they looked inside the hospital.

She arrived at Human Resources and looked at the magical board by the door. There were a few announcements flitting about all over the board, as well as a schedule of upcoming activities in the hospital. To one side is a list of those who participated in the Healer Program, arranged according to who did best. Hermione's name was at the number one spot, of course, but she was surprised to see that she had tied in first place with someone else from the program.

She had always been competitive when it came to things that had to do with intellect, and she was not used to having someone else share the number one spot, so she tried not to be too disappointed. All in vain. The more she stared at the name "Patrizia Azrael" shining brightly beside hers, the more she resented the girl. The fact that "Azrael" came before "Granger" didn't help her disposition any as Patrizia's name was listed before hers, making her seem less competent—in her eyes, at least.

She remembered who Patrizia was from among the program participants. She also remembered thinking that the girl did not have it in her to get through the program, what with her mindless chatter and her insolent and haughty nature. How could she have known that the girl would be her competitor for top spot?

She heard a derisive snort from behind her and turned around to see Draco Malfoy walking past.

"Wow, Granger. You're sharing the glory with someone else."

Hermione rolled her eyes, memories of the couch incident disappearing completely to be replaced by loathing. "Glad to see you, too, Malfoy," she said sarcastically. Oh, how he made her blood boil.

Draco passed a glance at her, and it seemed like his eyes turned a darker shade of gray for a while, but it was gone in a flash, and Hermione was not sure if she had only imagined it. Without another word, he turned his back to her and continued on walking, not throwing her so much as a backward glance or a farewell snort.

Hermione rolled her eyes again at his retreating back and turned the other way to head home, fuming. She had noticed he was carrying some sort of specimen in a jar, but she had been too pissed to bother asking about it and satisfying her curiosity. So much for sexual tension with Malfoy. His attitude does not make him hard to hate at all.

Oh, but things were a lot easier when their only encounters of one another consisted of taunting at Hogwarts corridors, pulling pranks during Hogsmeade weekends, or besting each other during class, especially during Snape's Potions classes. She was going to make sure that the next time she sees Malfoy, things would be the same as they were in Hogwarts: pure antagonism.

As long as he doesn't pull any other unexpected advances on her.

* * *

**Author's Note: Yes, I know. I am probably hated now. MONTHS of not coming up with anything. Almost a year, actually. I won't be making up any excuses. It was just sheer writer's block. Months and months of writer's block, plus a little bit of laziness and a whole lot of cramming for my final semester in college is all. How pathetic is that? o_O**

**But anyway, here it is. I'm sure it's not as interesting as any of us would like, but it seems I haven't gotten over the writer's block part yet. Believe me, I tried dozens of times to write something.**

**I will make it up to you guys, I promise!**


	7. Unfeasible: Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Draco Malfoy (as much as I, and a lot of other ladies, want to) or Hermione Granger. The only aspects of this fic that I own are the characters you don't recognize from the books, and the plot. All other credit goes to JK Rowling.**

_Chapter 7_

Draco scratched his head irritably as he stood in the middle of his basement, staring at his lab which had been untouched for three days. He was no workaholic, but sometimes when there were no commissions and all his previous works were completely finished down to the paperwork, he just gets so bored out of his wits. Like now.

He almost wished someone somewhere in the wizarding world would fall horribly sick.

He let out a frustrated groan, tilted his head back in resignation, and climbed up his stairs with his eyes closed. He must have looked like an idiot, but the complete lack of anything worthwhile to do just turns him mental sometimes.

He slowly opened his eyes as he felt sunlight fall on his eyelids, knowing he was well out of that dark lab. From where he was standing, he could see his mother in the conservatory, or sunroom, if you will, down the hall. There were two other ladies with her, and tea and biscuits were distributed around the little table they were surrounding.

His father, Lucius, could never figure out why Narcissa would want an entire room of glass built, where everyone from the outside could see every single thing you were doing, when there was the indoor entertainment room or the study. Narcissa only huffed and told him that congregations in the study, as Lucius was used to, were made for people with dark dealings, and that for lighthearted conversation a bit of sunlight and fresh air were needed. Lucius had walked away muttering to himself about senility in old ladies, but had the conservatory built according to Narcissa's wishes anyway.

Personally, Draco thought both of them had valid points, and in his opinion a combination of the ideas of the two would have been better. He would have preferred to have a bit of solid, non-transparent panels inserted here and there in the conservatory. It was just too _bright_ the way his mother had it made.

He climbed up the stairs to his wing of the manor and opened the door to his room. Bored out of his mind and with nothing to do, he was thinking that maybe sleeping might not be such a bad idea. Or getting a book to read. But he had read every book in his personal library, and he had gotten enough sleep the previous days to last him a week, so those ideas were instantly scratched out. He flopped on his bed belly-up and stared at the ceiling.

He must have stared for a good five minutes before realizing he was being unproductive yet again. He turned his head to the right and saw something sticking out from under his table. Curious, he stood up to pull it out and groaned in dismay when he saw what it was.

It was Hermione's umbrella, which had been left unused in his room ever since that night he went to try and give it back to her. How long has it been since then? Three weeks? A month? His last encounter with her two weeks ago had led him to a long, cold shower in his bathroom when he got home. He was annoyed at the fact that the simple thought of her could stir his inner animal from deep slumber, and that seeing her in person could lead him to a lonesome handsome.

He seriously had to get laid. Because of his work, he had been pretty much stuck in his lab the past year or so, and he felt that maybe this unusual attraction to the Gryffindor was a product of that. The first encounter with a hot female woke up something which had lain dormant for so long, something which was now itching to come out.

He just hated how, whenever he closed his eyes and thought of something remotely naughty, a certain brown-haired girl always came to mind.

A knock on his door disrupted his thoughts, for which he was thankful. As he was about to open his mouth to say, "Come in," his double doors flew open and his best friend, Blaise Zabini strode into the room.

"Oh, thank _god_ you're here," Blaise greeted dramatically.

Draco sat back on his bed and leaned on the headboard. "Of course I'd be here," he replied. "There are no commissions coming in, and I am getting mental from the lack of anything to do." He watched as Blaise set his cloak on the backrest of one of the chairs in the room and proceeded to pace."Do you have any plans of telling me what you want?" Draco asked after about a minute of Blaise's pacing.

Blaise impatiently held up one finger and continued to pace. "I will, I'll tell you. But give me a minute here, Malfoy."

Draco rolled his eyes and contented himself with running his forefinger on the serpent ring he was wearing while Blaise tried to compose himself.

Blaise's head whipped around so suddenly, Draco was quite taken aback. He jerked and gave Blaise a half-glare, half-WTF look. "Okay," his dark-skinned friend finally said. "I need you to come to a ball with me."

Draco's instant reaction was a resounding "_What?_" The blonde rubbed his temples, confounded at how loud his own voice went. "You want me to go to a ball with you? A fucking ball? Are you gay, Blaise Zabini?"

Blaise threw at Draco the nearest piece of object he could get his hands on, which happened to be the paperweight on Draco's table. Draco, fortunately, ducked in time. "I said _come_ with me, you bloody idiot, not _go_ with me. Rose Bennett's presentation to society."

"Presentation?" Draco repeated offhandedly, immediately uninterested and proceeding to search for the paperweight which buried itself in between his pillows. "People still actually do that? I was under the impression that presentations were already considered obsolete."

Blaise took a seat on the couch in the room and threw his head back. "They are, but some old families just can't bear to let go of some archaic traditions, and the Bennett family's one of them." Blaise looked at Draco pleadingly. "I need you to come with me, Draco," he said. "I can't bear facing Rose's father on my own."

"Pfff," Draco said, carelessly waving a hand at him. "I don't care much for balls. Besides, it's not like there's anything going on between you and the Bennett girl for you to be intimidated by her father." Draco suddenly fixed Blaise with an intense stare. "Is there?" When Blaise could do nothing but shrug, Draco leapt to his feet. "There is! Blaise Zabini, you've been romping about with Rose Bennett and you didn't even care to tell me?"

Blaise gave him another shrug, as if that one action would explain everything. "It just sort of… Happened. Please, Draco, you _have_ to come with me. I need all the morale support I could get. Do you know that her father actually purchased one of those Muggle handguns and keeps it always in his coat? He could shoot my head off if he wanted, though why he'd want a gun when he could just use _Avada_ is beyond me."

Draco raised an eyebrow at his friend. "You're seriously asking me to go with you?"

"To _accompany _me," Blaise stressed.

Draco heaved a sigh of resignation and threw the paperweight which he had finally located back at Blaise. "Fine," he said. Blaise easily caught the paperweight in his hand and placed it back on the table, standing up at the same time.

"_Thank you_. I'll make it up to you, I promise." Blaise took his cloak and threw it over his shoulders, casting Draco one last look of gratitude. "It's tomorrow night. I'll pick you up at 6 in the evening. I swear, Draco Malfoy, if I don't die at the end of the ball, I'll be at your service forever." With another dramatic swish, Blaise exited Draco's room, and Draco was once again left to his own ruminations.

_Ball, huh?_ he thought. Balls always attracted girls. It gave them a chance to prettify themselves and best one another in terms of beauty. He might just find someone just as bored and just as… _Needy_, as he was, if he was lucky. Maybe the ball would not be such a bad idea after all, if it would take his mind off the know-it-all Gryffindor who had been invading his dreams recently.

* * *

Hermione strode down the hall wearing an elegant silver strapless gown that went to her mid-calf, with matching silver heels and accessories. Her hair was up in a stylish loose bun, with tendrils of hair framing her face. To her right was Ginny, wearing a gold sequined dress that ran past her ankles, her hair down and straightened. Together, they caught the eyes of many as they arrived at the Bennett Manor, obviously the most attractive of the guests that have arrived so far.

Though invited, Hermione originally had no plans of going, as she was tired and wanted to take a break by staying at home with a tub of ice cream while watching cheesy movies on the telly, but Harry was unexpectedly called into work, and Ginny had begged her to come and be her company. Unable to say no, Hermione found herself going through her dresses and gowns, looking for something suitable to wear, and soon she and Ginny were off to the party.

Rose Bennett was three years her junior, so even though 70 percent of the faces were familiar, they were only that. Familiar names and faces. Very little of those people were those she had actually spoken to back at Hogwarts. After all, Hermione was not, and still is not, exactly the social butterfly back in school, so though she was not the type to keep to herself, she was not as forward as the others either. It sort of made her feel really old and anti-social, actually.

"Oh my god!" Ginny squealed from beside her, and Hermione turned her head to see what was happening. Two girls whom she remembered to have been in Ravenclaw and in Ginny's year were walking towards them, and Ginny was meeting them halfway. "I haven't seen you two in ages!" She reached out and the three of them engaged in a quick hug.

"It's been so long, Ginny!" the brunette—Alicia Dawson, if Hermione was not mistaken—of the two girls greeted. "How have you been? And how is life as Harry Potter's girlfriend for, what, four years?"

The other girl, Emile Winnipeg, clapped her hands together in glee. "Has it been that long? Oh, I'm so happy for you!"

Hermione watched from the sideline as the three updated each other with their lives, until she could not wait any longer. "Gin," she said softly. "I just need to find the loo, okay?"

"Oh!" Ginny exclaimed. "Hermione! I'm sorry, I was so caught up, I neglected you! Alicia, Emile, you both know Hermione." She gestured between the three. "Hermione, these are Alicia and Emile, from Ravenclaw."

Hermione smiled as she nodded in the direction of the two. "Pleasure to meet you," she said, to which they replied the same. "Anyway, Gin, I'll catch up with you later, alright? I'll just go look for the toilet." At Ginny's assent, Hermione turned her back to them and proceeded down the hallway, looking around.

The house was magnificent. It had a somewhat French Baroque architecture, which Hermione simply loved. She reached the Great Hall and gasped. Hogwarts had an enchanted ceiling, but in the Bennett Manor, it was one of the walls of the Great Hall which was enchanted, allowing those inside to see the field outside which faced a beautiful mountain range. Tables were set up on the grass outside, and many of Rose Bennett's guests were mingling out in the moonlight.

It truly was a beautiful sight to see: men and women in gowns and dress robes that gleamed under the pale light of the moon, magical lanterns flickering on the tables, and several children chasing each other gleefully around the bushes. The inside of the Great Hall was pretty much the same, only the lighting was brighter, as several chandeliers hung on the high ceiling.

Hermione scanned the hall and easily spotted Rose, wearing a beautiful white gown that glittered with her every move. Hermione did not quite remember Rose being as charming back at Hogwarts, but apparently she matured a lot over the past four years that Hermione hadn't seen her. She was about to walk over to the debutante to greet her and congratulate her for a successful coming out party, until she noticed the man standing beside Rose.

It was not really the sight of Blaise Zabini, standing beside Rose and fidgeting uneasily as Mr. Bennett addressed him, which stayed Hermione, but the shock of white blonde hair immediately behind Blaise that registered in her brain. Without looking at the face, she knew who owned that blonde head. Blaise should have been sign enough in the first place anyway.

Hermione whirled around and changed course before Draco could look in her direction. The last thing she needed was another face-to-face encounter with him when she was already doing oh-so-well. The last time the scene on her couch had played in her head was actually more than a week ago now. She could now sit there watching the telly without suddenly jerking as the tingling sensations overcame her again.

She spent a good one hour and more reacquainting with old Hogwarts faces. Sometime into the night, she finally found Ginny searching for her out in the gardens, and they both went to see Rose—now without the company of the two Slytherins, Hermione noted thankfully—to finally give her their compliments, before they went back out to the gardens to sit with Ginny's other girl friends. Once or twice a strapping young man walked over to their table and asked them to dance. They both politely declined both times, Ginny with loyalty to Harry in mind, and with Hermione just not trusting her two left feet.

Eventually, Hermione got tired of hearing the annoying prattle of voices from some of Ginny's friends. Somehow, they did not strike Hermione as the type of people Ginny would hang out with if given the choice. They seemed a bit too absentminded compared to Ginny's usual group. Alicia and Emile, the first two of Ginny's friends that Hermione met that night, seemed to be the only two exceptions.

Hermione excused herself from the table, saying she wanted to get another drink and take a short walk. She went back into the manor to where the buffet table was and refilled her wine glass. While more white wine was being poured, she noticed a balcony at the second story of the manor, visible from downstairs, and saw the moon shining through. Thinking the sight would be beautiful from up there, she got her wine glass back and walked up the stairs to get to the said balcony.

The first thing she did when she stepped out onto the ledge was gasp. The scenery was as beautiful as she had imagined. Below, the visitors in the gardens could be seen and heard faintly chatting with one another. Farther back was the expanse of grass that stretched until it came to a rest at the bank of a lake, before several mountains in the distance. Hermione could not see the lake from down there at the gardens, but now from up here she could clearly see how the moon was reflected in its calm waters.

She was drinking from her wine glass when her peripheral vision registered something shrinking into the shadows, and she looked sharply to her left, hand coming automatically to where her wand was hidden in her purse. She heard an exasperated sigh, and a few moments later, Draco Malfoy stepped out of the shadows.

"I was sort of hoping I could step out of here before you noticed," he said, "but I guess without your usually unruly hair blocking your face I wasn't quite as hidden as I had hoped."

Hermione lowered her hand from her purse and sighed. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"What do I want?" Draco frowned at her. "What makes you think I wanted anything? I've had this place to myself for about 15 minutes already when you suddenly came and proceeded to 'ooh' and 'aah' at the view. Now you could run along and go back to your friends, wherever the hell they may be. It's peaceful up here, and I want to keep it that way."

Hermione rolled her eyes and stayed in place, looking back at the lake. "It's noisy down there. At my table, at least. I went up here for some quiet." Hermione put her glass down on the ledge and looked at Draco. "Tell you what. We could both stay here and just ignore each other. We could also face opposite directions. That way, we could actually pretend that neither of us have any company tonight out here on this balcony."

Draco, glad at the idea of not having to be forced back into the mess of people mingling downstairs, immediately agreed, and they both took their positions on the opposite ends of the balcony. Hermione continued to observe their surrounding environment, noting the chirping of birds from a distance and trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. At the other end of the balcony, Draco sipped on his own glass of wine, trying to remind himself to think of Hermione _not_ being out there with him.

He looked up at the night sky. _Why?_ He asked whatever powers were working on his life from up there. _I pray that we not see each other, and you give me just the opposite. WHY?_ He personally thought that whatever divine entity was up there was out to make his life miserable on purpose.

He stole a glance at Hermione from the corner of his eyes. Her silver gown suited her more than Draco would have imagined it would. Everything about the way she looked that night, from her dress, to the way her hair was made, to how she conducted herself with every motion, was elegant. Even the way she sipped her wine looked more sophisticated than he had ever seen on another woman other than his mother. He noticed that she shivered from time to time when a cold gust of air came their way, and even the way her shoulders shuddered was graceful.

Cursing himself for feeling the impulse to do what he was about to do, he set his wine glass down on the ledge long enough to pull his coat off, then walked to Hermione's side of the balcony. He felt her shoulders stiffen when he threw the coat over her icy shoulders, but she did not protest. Perhaps the cold was getting to her and muddling whatever brain activity she was capable of.

"Thank you, Malfoy," she said, accepting the coat and pulling it tighter around her.

Draco shushed her. "No talking."

For minutes they stayed there, standing beside one another and staring off at the far distance, preoccupied with their own thoughts. Hermione was wondering to herself what was different about her encounter with Draco tonight. Maybe it was the beautiful scenery, maybe it was the wine, but she found that being in the same place with Draco tonight was not only bearable, but was peaceful and… _Secure._

She had not the faintest idea how many minutes she stood staring out at the open area in front of them, but Hermione found herself turning to face Draco Malfoy, as he did the same. The coat fell off her shoulders and lay on the ground, forgotten, as the two sworn enemies succumbed to the eyes of one another, pulled into _something_ neither of them understood.

Whatever was happening at the balcony that night was to remain their secret, that much they both knew.

The kiss, when it came, as Draco's lips dropped to meet hers was tentative and unsure, as one would do when trying to gauge the water temperature in the tub before a hot bath. When their lips parted after that brief touch, Hermione felt as though her guts were pulled out with it, and she opened her eyes, which she had not noticed had been glued shut, with a gasp. She absently noted Draco's hands come up to her shoulders, and the feel of his warm hands on her cold, bare shoulders elicited another gasp from her slightly parted lips.

Draco swallowed as he felt another urge to kiss the brainy witch who was standing in front of him. A small part of his brain was screaming a warning of, "_Mudblood! Mudblood! Mudblood!_" at him, but he mentally waved it away as he swooped down for another kiss, this time firmer than the last, but just as calculating. He gripped her shoulders when he felt her hands slide up his back and clutch at him as she gave in helplessly to the sensations his kiss was stirring inside her. The pent-up energy he had accumulated with their every encounter prior to that night was slowly trying to make its way out of his pants, and he groaned when her hips accidentally grazed it.

Hermione's fingers tightened on Draco's back at the guttural sound that came from inside him. She gasped yet again as the urgency in the kiss heightened, Draco's need obviously mirroring her own, and she struggled for a breath of air before long. She pulled back and stared into Draco's eyes, and she saw in them his confusion about what was happening, as well as the raw need for contact with her. Unthinking, she brought her hands up to his face and pulled his head down for another kiss, one that was probing and at the same time questioning.

She had never before felt this much excitement from making out with anyone. Not that she had had a lot of opportunities for it, of course. More than 50% of her excitement, she was sure, stemmed from the fact that what was happening was the taboo of taboos. This was her and Draco Malfoy, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, a Muggle-born and a Pureblood, Harry Potter's best friend and Voldemort's most influential ex-minion's only son. The fact that they had managed to stand a few minutes together without anybody throwing hexes should have already thrown the world off-balance.

Her hands went to the back of his head, burying themselves in his hair and pulling him closer to her. To reciprocate, Draco slid his hands from her shoulders to her waist, then to her back. He heard her whimper as he bit on her lower lip, and memories of how her bare skin under her white tank top felt under his hands flushed over him.

He pushed her to the wall behind her, eliciting another moan from her as she came in contact with the stone. He let go of her lips and attacked her neck with his mouth, biting with just enough pressure so that she would get deliciously hurt. At the same time, his right hand was slowly skimming up and down her left side, coming closer and closer to her breast. Just as he cupped both breasts in his hands, she tugged softly at his hair, hurting him and feeding his lust.

He brought his lips down to her breasts and kissed both mounds that were peeking from the top of her dress. He distinctly heard Hermione whisper a breathy "Malfoy," and, unable to stop himself, focused on one breast and placed a hickey on it. As he watched the kiss mark slowly turn red right before his eyes, he felt an animalistic hunger from within himself. He wanted to take Granger. He wanted to take her so badly, he almost did not care if he did it right then and there. If this went any further, there would be no turning back.

Thankfully, whatever hold he had on himself prevailed. He stood up straight and faced Hermione square in the face, but kept his hands on her hips. Her own hands were on his shoulders and started to slide down as she noticed the change in the mood. Both were breathing heavily from the exercise that their lips and hands had engaged in.

"Granger," he said when he had finally found his voice. His hands involuntarily clamped down where they were on her hips as he watched Hermione's chest rise and fall with every breath. "I… Can't…"

Hermione was slightly surprised. She had always believed that Draco was the type to not back down when faced with the prospect of sex, so him saying he _can't _made for a surprising turn of events. Yet she was thankful they had not gone any further. She was pretty sure that if they had continued, it would be something she would regret for a long time, if not forever, no matter how much she could have, and probably would have, enjoyed it.

She nodded and brought her hands from his arms down to her sides. "I can't, either," she replied, looking downward as she talked. She did not want him to see in her eyes just how much she had liked and wanted what was happening despite the fact that, like him, she "can't."

Draco silently cursed as he kept his eyes on the young witch who now refused to look at him. _Just when it was getting good, Malfoy, you had to stop it_, he mentally scolded himself. Still, there were many factors to take into consideration before engaging in sex with your school rival. First of all was the situation they were in: a formal ball held by a friend, or acquaintance, at least. Anybody could walk up to the balcony and catch them any minute. Second… There was that tiny detail about them being incompatible considering their backgrounds, school-wise and family-wise.

Still… Draco did not doubt that the sex would have been good if they were in the right circumstances. Cursing himself for what felt like the fiftieth time that night, Draco reached out for Hermione's chin and tilted her face upward for another kiss. Her eyes enlarged at the sudden movement and eventually slowly started to shut.

Eyes closed, she savored the feel of his lips against her, of his tongue dueling with her own. She could still taste the wine they had both been drinking, as well as something else which she was sure was distinctly just Draco's. The kiss slowed to a stop, and she felt Draco lift his lips off of hers. Her eyes remained closed as she relished the remnants of that last kiss.

When she opened her eyes, Draco was no longer on the balcony with her. She was alone, with no sign left of Draco even being with her that night, except for a hickey and his coat, folded neatly beside her wine glass.

* * *

**Author's Note: Well, just in case some of you didn't get something I wrote up there… The "lonesome handsome" part. Well, what do you call sex with a total of three people? Threesome, right? And with two people, it's a twosome. If it's with yourself? That's right. Handsome. Because you use your hand for it. Get it? Get it? I hope you do. :))**

**Well, here's chapter 7. I know, it took forever again. But at least this time it only took a month. Haha! I'm really sorry for whatever delay I always seem to bring. :)**

**I'm not really sure how "well" this chapter turned out to be. So… Just tell me what you think of it. :D**


	8. Unfeasible: Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Draco Malfoy (as much as I, and a lot of other ladies, want to) or Hermione Granger. The only aspects of this fic that I own are the characters you don't recognize from the books, and the plot. All other credit goes to JK Rowling.**

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_Chapter 8_

Hermione stepped into her flat and wearily removed her heeled sandals. When she stepped out of the balcony that night, Draco had been nowhere in sight. How he could have disappeared that quickly was a mystery to her, but, then again, Draco had always been a mystery. Annoyed as she had been at him back when they were still students, she had been able to sense something different about him, something which made him unlike his other Slytherin mates. She had just never been able to figure out what it was. She still could not, in fact.

She slowly made her way across her living room, clutching Draco's coat around her. She had picked it up before she left the balcony, because, obviously, Draco had left it there for a reason. He would not have taken pains to carefully fold it for her if it was not for her to pick up and use.

That was yet another mystery to Hermione. How on earth could Draco have neatly folded his coat and disappear from her vicinity in that short span of time that she spent savoring her last kiss with him? It was just not possible.

_I mean, it's not like I was that into it… _she lied to herself._ It's not like I spent so much time with my eyes closed._

Ginny had been surprised when Hermione got back to their table with a coat she had previously not been wearing thrown over her shoulders, but Hermione had to keep it there in order to hide the hickey that Draco had so thoughtfully left on her right breast. Thankfully, Ginny saw in Hermione's face that she did not want any questions asked. Or at least, not presently. Ginny could wait before getting her answers.

She switched the lights on when she got to her bedroom and went straight to the dresser, pulling Draco's coat off of her. Carefully, she examined the love mark. It was about the size of a sickle, and was very red, indeed.

Was it stupid of her for not wanting to conceal it? She was the smartest witch of her age, everyone knew that, and concealment charms were no biggie for her.

She traced the hickey with her forefinger. Some twisted part of her wanted to keep it there. It was Draco's, and she wanted it as a reminder of how much of her he had taken. No, not for other people to see, but for a reminder to herself just who she was dealing with here. Draco was no longer dangerous, but old habits die hard. Draco was still a Slytherin Pureblood.

And that excited her more than anything else.

Hermione groaned and rolled her eyes at herself. "Really, Hermione?" she asked her reflection. "You really want Draco Malfoy's mark on you? Why, yes, I do, Hermione. Have you got a problem with that? I do, in fact. Why, you twisted girl? _Why?_"

She stared, part angrily, at the girl in the mirror. She did not know why, but she really had no desire to remove any mark of his from any part of her body.

With another groan, she stomped her way to her bathroom and prepared for a night of fitful sleep.

* * *

Hermione shuffled the papers on the table and stacked them neatly inside the file cabinet situated to her left. Meticulously, she arranged every piece of stationery material in front of her; pens and pencils went inside the white mug that lay at the table's upper right corner, post-it pad on the opposite corner of the table beside the heart-model paperweight, blank prescription pad below it, and a stamp pad beside the mug. Dr. Dirk Emerson was in the examination room, cleaning up after his last patient.

Today had been a short work day. It was only 5:30 in the afternoon, and they were already done, the last of the appointments having been finished around 5 minutes ago. As Hermione was arranging her things back in her purse, Dirk stepped out of the examination room and back to the waiting room.

"Well, we're done for the day," he observed with a bit of surprise. "Kind of early, aren't we?"

Hermione laughed. "I noticed that as well, Doctor," she replied. "It's an hour and a half earlier than the usual time that we close shop."

Dirk glanced up at the wall clock by the door, then outside the window. "There's a fair amount of sunlight left. Do you want to go out for early dinner? I'm paying, of course." He looked on as Hermione thought about his proposal.

She shrugged. "Sure, why not? If I'm going to get it for free, why would I even think of saying 'no'?" she joked. Still laughing, she picked up her purse and followed the doctor out of the clinic, locking the door behind her as she went.

"So," Hermione said as they stepped onto the sidewalk and began walking. "Where are we headed?"

"There's a new Italian restaurant that opened a few streets down. I was thinking of trying it out, but I didn't want to do so by myself." He stopped in his tracks. "It completely escaped me. Are you fine with walking?" He glanced at Hermione's shoes, which had heels just about an inch and a half high. "We could take a cab if you'd like," he offered.

Hermione just laughed at him with a wave of her hand. "What are you talking about? I'm used to walking. I take walks all the time. These," she pointed at her shoes, "you don't need to worry about. Less than two inches isn't high enough to hurt me after a bit of walking. Not when I spend most of my day sitting down, at least," she reassured him.

With that agreed, they continued to walk until they reached the Italian restaurant that Dirk had mentioned three intersections later.

Dinner was pleasant. They talked about many different things over pizza and pasta, ranging from environmentalism to cartoons. It was easy to converse with Dirk. He talked in such a way that made Hermione feel like an equal despite the ten years of age gap that they have between them, and despite their employer-employee relationship. Time flew by without Hermione noticing, and by the time either of them decided to take a look at their watches, it was already almost 7:30 in the evening.

"Oh my!" Hermione exclaimed. "I didn't notice the time. I am sorry, Doctor. I fear that I have kept you for far too long already."

Dirk dismissed her apology with a wave of his hand. "Nonsense," he said, smiling at her. "I always do enjoy your company, Hermione."

"But we ended up eating dinner for two hours!" Hermione insisted. "I'm sure you have better things to do than listen to me here recite about animal rights." Animal rights were the closest she could get to discussion House Elf rights.

Dirk laughed, again insisting that it was nothing. "But I really should get home already, though," he added, almost as an afterthought. "While it isn't exactly late yet, I don't really stay out this long on working days." He called for a waiter and indicated that he wanted the bill for their dinner. "You're right, we should get going."

After paying for their food, which Dirk insisted was on him, Hermione parted ways with the Doctor at the bus stop. The night was cool and, surprisingly, it was not raining. Since her flat was only a few blocks away, she decided to walk on her own, insisting that she did not need to be walked back home. Besides, she wanted some alone-time for herself so she could spend a leisurely walk pondering about her life.

She had not yet read any of the review books for the licensure exam in a while. Recently, she almost always came home from the clinic tired and in no mood for anything intellectually stimulating.

_Yes, _it _was_ possible for Hermione Granger to say no to studying.

_Maybe I should flip open one of the books tonight, _she thought, taking at look at her wristwatch. It was, after all, still early. There was still so much time left to do some studying.

Mind made up, she turned a corner, anticipating the studying she will be doing once she got home. There was a man in dark clothing leaning on the wall of the building at the corner, but she ignored him. It was not until she heard the tell-tale sounds of footfall when she realized that the street was dark and that she and the man were the only ones walking along it.

She threw a glance backward. The man was about 20 footsteps away from her. She noticed that her heart suddenly started beating faster than normal, and she was fidgeting nervously as well. She looked around her. There were only several houses, most of them with the lights off, and the streetlamps were not all lighted either. The rest of the structures surrounding them were clothes shops, book shops, and all other sorts of shops which had already closed for the night. She began to walk faster.

With dread, she heard the man's footsteps hasten just as hers did, and realized that unless someone came anytime soon, she had no chance of escape. Halfway across the street, she seemed to hear that the man's footsteps sounded closer than they had been only seconds ago, and, unable to stop herself, she looked back just in time to see the man grab her wrist with one hand and cover her mouth with the other.

She struggled and tried to shout through the hand, but what good would that have done in a deserted street? She felt the man half drag her body to a tiny space between two buildings, and her eyes grew large at the realization that it was not money the man was after. She had assumed that he was going to try to take her purse from him, and so she had begun to condition herself to just give it to him willingly if struggling continued to prove to be in vain. She was not prepared to experience rape.

She struggled harder, hoping her captor's grip would loosen somehow, but it only made him hold on to her even tighter. She felt a tear slide down her cheek when the man pinned her to a wall, enabling him to hold both her wrists above her head with just one hand. He momentarily let go of her mouth to reach for the gag cloth in his pocket, and she took that opportunity to shout, despite knowing nobody would be coming to her aid.

"HELP! _SOMEBODY HELP ME!_"

That earned her a slap to the face, which shocked her so much that it shut her up.

"Quiet, bitch!" the man said, attempting to gag her, and succeeding.

Hermione's tears were flowing freely by then. Her cheek hurt, and she could feel the man slitting open the side of her skirt with a knife. Absently, she remembered that she was gagged with a piece of cloth that has been through who-knows-what, and she shuddered at the thought of germs all over her mouth.

Her parents would throw a fit if they knew how much bacteria was inside her mouth at the moment.

Her captor took it as a shudder of fear, and his eyes glinted lustfully as he stared at her. "That's right," he said. "Cry for me. Be scared. Because I'm not about to go easy on you, sweetheart." Clearly, this man was a sadist.

Hermione closed her eyes. _God, this man is _SICK_, _she managed to mentally tell herself before she was completely overcome with disgust. She tried to ignore the hand that was finding its way to her bare thighs through the ragged slit made by the knife, and whimpered when she felt the man's nails scrape at her inner thigh and brush roughly against her sensitive part.

"Yes," the man groaned. "Oh, _fuck_, you're one pretty lass. This won't be gentle, baby, but you'll be wet for me soon enough." He ground his crotch into hers. "Do you feel that? Yes, you do. I'll be fucking your brains out with this, and you won't be able to sit for a week after I'm done with you."

Suddenly, there were no more hands on her, and she heard the knife clutter down to the floor. She opened her eyes tentatively. Somebody had come up and punched her would-have-been rapist square on the jaw, sending him reeling into a trash bin. Another punch shook the living daylights out of him.

Hermione stared dumbly at her savior, trying to see who it was, but it was too dark to see. She came to her senses and realized that the foul gag was still in her mouth, and she pulled it out, spitting onto the dirty floor as she did so. Her palms came up automatically to her face, wiping the tears away. She glared hatefully at her captor who was now laying unconscious and facedown with his head in the now-upturned trash bin. She felt dirty just knowing that the hands of someone as disgusting had touched her.

"_Are you a witch, or are you not?_" Draco Malfoy's angry voice was clearly audible, now that her blood was no longer ringing in her ears from fear.

"Malfoy?" she called out, unsure if she had the right man. Now that she was not so scared, she did notice that her savior's hair was of a light color. She heard something that sounded remotely like "fucking hell," and she watched as Draco ran one hand frustratingly through his unkempt blond locks.

Draco held out a hand to her to help her stand on her feet. "Do you know what magic is, Granger? You could have fended off this bloody maniac if you had bothered to use your brain and remembered that you owned a wand, for crying out loud!"

Hermione ignored the hand offered and rose to her feet on her own, though she staggered as her knees were still feeling weak, and she had to lean on the wall for support. "Who's the bloody genius, Malfoy?" she asked angrily, indignant that she had been the one assaulted and yet there he was, shouting at her as if it had been her fault. "You could have used the stunning spell on him and saved yourself the trouble of getting a sore hand from the two punches."

Draco looked down at his knuckles, which he had been unconsciously nursing by massaging his other hand gently over it. "I had to keep my body in shape, Gryffindor, and fighting physically is an excellent way of doing that," he lied lamely. Inside, he was mentally hitting himself on the head with a saucepan. _Indeed, Draco, what happened to "_Stupefy"_? _he asked himself.

Hermione dusted off her skirt as she tried to regain her balance on her now less-shaky knees. "I appreciate you coming on time and saving me, Malfoy," she said, grudgingly adding a small "Thank you," but continuing to glare at him. "I don't need you to bring me lower when I'm already down, though."

Draco sighed and once again ran his hand through his hair as he watched Hermione trying to pick up her purse, which she had dropped on the floor. "Bloody hell," he murmured, more to himself than to her, before he reached for both Hermione and the purse and disapparated them back to her flat before she could protest. They emerged from one of the bushes to the side of the building, thankfully with no one in the vicinity to witness their sudden appearance.

Hermione tried to pry her arm from Draco's grip as he pulled her up to her door. "What the fuck, Malfoy!" she hissed. "Let me go!"

Draco let her go when they reached the door. "Keys," he said stiffly, holding out a hand as if to tell her to place the keys on it.

Hermione shot him another angry glare and reached into her purse, fishing her keys out. Draco grabbed them from her once she pulled the keychain out of her bag, and opened her door. She started when Draco threw the keys down on her center table with a loud "bang."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Hermione asked, annoyed that he was acting like a right asshole.

Draco silenced her with a returning glare. "You go and prepare for bed. I'm leaving. Next time, Granger, _use your bloody wand_." He held his own out in front of her face for emphasis. "You didn't study for seven years in Hogwarts just so some random drunkard could take advantage of you in a dark alley just because you were stupid enough to forget you are a witch."

With that said, he disapparated.

Hermione could only stare in shock at the space that was previously occupied by the Slytherin Prince just seconds ago. Her knees gave when her body finally processed that it no longer had to act tough anymore in front of Malfoy, and she cried her frustrations about the near-rape and about her less-than-encouraging savior into her hands.

* * *

Back at the Malfoy Manor, Draco was not doing so well either. He had been walking along the street of the pasta place Hermione and her male friend had planned to go to when he noticed them walking in his direction. In order to not be seen, he sat down on the bench right across the restaurant and picked up a discarded newspaper that was on top of it, thinking they would keep walking. Unfortunately for him, they decided to enter the restaurant, and he had a pretty good view of Hermione and her evening with the unknown man from outside the window.

He had no idea why, but he stayed sitting there the entire time that Hermione was in the restaurant. Eventually, he fell asleep on the bench and woke up just in time to see Hermione and her friend disappear behind a bus on the bus stop just a few meters away. When the bus had left, Hermione was nowhere to be seen, but Draco was pretty sure he had not seen her get on the bus.

Curious, he stood up and walked down the street, turning at the next corner because it was the only place Hermione could have gone to without him seeing from his angle since it would have been obvious if she had gone down any other lane. He kept on walking and was about to give up on finding her altogether when he heard her scream. At first he had no idea which way to turn to, because her scream had been cut short before he could determine which direction the sound was coming from. If not for the sound of a scuffle following that, he would not have looked back and retraced his steps.

He arrived just in time to see the rapist bastard whispering into Hermione's ear just how rough he would be on her. From that point on, his vision went red, and before he knew it, he had already landed one punch on the perpetrator and was already preparing for a next one.

His anger had started to die down once he saw that the man was unmoving and slightly bleeding at the lip, but he was still very, very frustrated. He had been extremely worried when he heard Hermione scream, and the fact that in Hermione's fear she neglected to remember that she was a witch made Draco even more frustrated. If he had not been there, and if she continued to let that man molest her just because of her momentary stupidity, Hermione would have been defiled by now, devoured by another man, with no way of taking back what she would have lost.

He had no idea why and when he started to bother himself with what was happening to Hermione, and in fact did not know what possessed him to stay sitting on that bench for the whole two hours she was chatting up that acquaintance of hers, but she had better thank her lucky stars he was around during her moment of peril.

After seeing to it that she was safe back at her flat, he went back to the place where he had found Hermione, and was glad to see that the bastard was still lying in an unmoving heap on the dirty floor. He prodded the body with the toe of his shoe, and when the man did not move, he gave him a kick at the loins. He happily noted the grunt that had come from the man's mouth despite being unconscious.

Using his wand, he pointed to the body lying prone on the ground, muttered a spell to conjure up a length of rope from thin air and tie his wrists together with it, then with another spell the body disappeared. The Muggle Police would soon find the body outside of their headquarters, with a small note on what he had done.

Satisfied with his work, Draco disapparated to the Manor, where he went straight to his room to calm himself down even more.

During the whole ordeal, Draco had actually managed to completely forget about their little scene at the balcony in the Bennett residence. He had tried his best not to think about it throughout his entire day, so he had spent an inordinate amount of time trying to distract himself with Quidditch, reading, and experimenting with Potions. He succeeded, for the most part. It was not until he first saw her earlier that night when everything came back to him in a rush.

Of course, what but a good almost-rape scene to help him forget about the funny tingling he was feeling in the pit of his stomach, only to be replaced by something he had not felt before. At least not for the Mudblood.

Try as he might, he could not tell where the extreme worry had come from. In the first place, he should not even be feeling anything remotely civil for her. He would have thought genuine worry would have been out of the question as well, but there it had been. Worry, anger, frustration, all directed at the one person he had never ever thought of directing those feelings, except for anger, to.

"Fucking hell," he whispered to himself for god knows how many times already that night. He needed a distraction again. _Now._ Struggling to keep thoughts of a balcony and a bushy-haired Gryffindor out of his head, he went downstairs to his Father's study to demand a fencing spar.

Just as he closed the door to his room, an owl arrived and pecked at his window. The owl cocked its head to either side of the room, trying to see if the recipient of the letter it was bearing was anywhere at all in the room. Seeing that he wasn't, it settled into a corner of the window, positioning itself so that it would not get cramps from waiting for too long.

It was an owl; it had nothing better to do. It could wait until Draco Malfoy came back to his room an hour later.

* * *

**Author's Note: Chapter 8! But before anything else, dear readers, thank you for the positive reviews, favorites, and alerts. Seeing at least one person appreciate what I write really gets me going. :)**

**Well, what do you think of it? Honestly, I think I should start planning my fics again. Everything I've written so far in Unfeasible has been spontaneous and totally unplanned. I sit in front of the laptop and type until I don't have anything to type anymore. It wasn't so pressuring when I wrote **_**A Being In Darkness **_**precisely because I had an outline of events I wanted to happen, so I guess I'm going to try and do that again for the next chapters.**

**Hmmm. So who could the owl be from? :D**


	9. Unfeasible: Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Draco Malfoy (as much as I, and a lot of other ladies, want to) or Hermione Granger. The only aspects of this fic that I own are the characters you don't recognize from the books, and the plot. All other credit goes to JK Rowling.**

**A/N: Aiiiiiiiiiiii! You people overwhelm me with the reviews and favorites and story alerts, really, and I simply cannot and will not wait for the end-of-chapter A/N to bombard you with my thanks. I was amazed to see the number of hits (938!) I got on the day when I uploaded the latest chapter and it was AWESOME. I don't know how many hits other authors usually get, but suffice it to say that the number of hits multiplied by FOUR compared to my usual. So, thank you! Very, very much. I hope that I continue to please you all. :D**

* * *

_Chapter 9_

Draco paced in the waiting room at the St. Mungo's specialization ward. Two days ago he had received an owl from the St. Mungo's Human Resources Department, stating that it was about time he accepted an apprentice and that they had the perfect candidate for it. He knew that in the Healer's Internship Program, they always sent the top five students to five different Specialists in order for them to learn more about the area of expertise that they excelled in during the entire two-year course.

Draco was notified that he managed to snag the opportunity to personally train the person who had gotten first place in the Internship Program.

He distinctly remembered finding Hermione about three weeks ago staring at her name on the top spot at the board just outside the room across from where he was. He also vaguely remembered pointing out to her at that time that she actually shared the top spot with another witch, whom she seemed to dislike.

He fervently hoped that he got the other witch. The people at the St. Mungo's HR were notorious for the surprises they throw against the Healers and Specialists, and they kindly left out the name of the fortunate Healer-to-be who would be apprenticed to Draco for three months.

The door opened, and Draco's head whipped around so suddenly that the Healer who entered took a step back. Draco grimaced and apologized.

"Uhm…" the timid-looking Healer who entered looked slightly ruffled and muttered. "Yes. Mister Malfoy, I'm not sure if I surprised or scared you or what, so I, too, apologize for barging in like that." She wore thick-rimmed, black glasses, and her hair was styled into two pigtails, a style which was uncharacteristic of the typical Healer image.

Draco could swear he heard a soft, surprised "_Malfoy?_" from behind the Healer but he chose to believe that it was only a figment of his overly-paranoid imagination.

The female Healer—Draco distractedly wondered if female Healers should be called Healeresses—held out a small, pale hand to him. "I am Healer Jenna—"

_Okay, so I guess that answers my "Healeress" question._

"—and I am here to introduce to you your new apprentice." Healer Jenna stepped to the side to reveal his new oh-so-loveable apprentice.

Draco turned his back to the pair, held his arms out and upwards as if imploring to god-almighty, and said, "Of course you would do this to me, wouldn't you?" He brought his hands back down and held them to his head with a frustrated groan.

"M… Mister Malfoy?" the Healer called out tentatively. "Are you alright?" She was beginning to think Mr. Malfoy was not at all right in the head

Draco brought his hands to his sides, cleared his throat, and faced them with the calculated smile of someone who was resigned to his undesirable fate. "Just perfect, thank you," he said a little too happily.

Unsure, but seemingly pacified, Healer Jenna nodded and pushed her glasses, which had been slowly slipping, up the bridge of her nose. "Very good," she said, stepping back so that Hermione could properly enter the room. "This is Miss Hermione Granger," began the unnecessary introduction, to which both Draco and Hermione just gave a "hmm," to acknowledge that they were listening, "and she was the one who topped the Internship Program. We at St. Mungo's noticed that Miss Granger had an aptitude for Potions making, and she was also most reliable when we quizzed them on patient diagnosis, hence we felt that you were the specialist perfect for her further education.

"Miss Granger also showed during the program that she practically had everything that has been written in Healing books known by heart, which we feel is a characteristic that is very much needed in this profession to avoid unnecessary delays in prognosis and treatment." She then turned to Hermione, addressing her. "This is Mr. Draco Malfoy, our most trusted specialist on the worst and most unpredictable scientific cases. He does not like boasting of his achievements"—at this, Hermione actually started coughing involuntarily—"so that's basically all that I could tell you about him. If you want to learn more about him, you would have to ask him personally. Are there any further questions?" She looked back and forth from the witch and wizard in front of her, but they just both shook their heads.

"In that case, I shall leave you two to work out your own schedules and whatever else you have to agree on in terms of the apprenticeship. Should you have any questions, I will only be in the last room down the hall." With a final nod, she bowed her way out of the room, leaving the two enemies together again in the same room.

"Absolutely perfect," Draco sighed to himself.

"It's not like I'm happy to be here, either," Hermione complained bitterly, taking a seat at the couch provided inside the room. She looked over at Draco as he scratched at his head frustratedly and turned his back to her. She stared as he continued to glare at the wall in front of him, still surprised that fate brought them together yet again.

She realized she had not yet thanked him properly (the thing she mumbled on the day of the incident, which she forced herself to think was a manifestation of gratitude, did not count) for the help he had given her, but he had been too busy being angry at her that she began to think that maybe he did not deserve a proper 'thank you' after all.

Nevertheless, she was not the type to dismiss a good deed done to her just like that. "Malfoy," she started again, softer this time and making him face her at the sound of her voice. "I wanted to thank you, again, for what you did the other night."

Draco wanted nothing more than to shout at her again for her stupidity, but he reminded himself that he was not really in the position to berate her for anything, seeing as they were not even friends in the first place.

She just happened to be one of his greatest enemies whom he had made out with a couple of times. How convenient.

"Look, Malfoy," he heard her say, drawing him out of the mental argument he was having with himself about how his lower head liked to function more than his upper. "I don't even need an apprenticeship anyway. I'm as confident about my capabilities as I would ever get. I could just tell them I am not interested and that I have no need to take part in this, since you really seem averse to my presence."

Draco could tell she was lying about her interest. She was interested; very much so. He supposed it had to do with the fact that she had been assigned to him—or he had been assigned to her, however you look at it—and she had not expected to be placed under the tutelage of Draco Malfoy. In fact, he was willing to bet his inheritance that not only did the thought never cross her mind, but that she was quite stunned that such a situation could have ever existed in the first place. He was, after all, bloody aware that she and her friends believe him to be nothing more than a whiny prick who mooches off his parents for all his needs.

He could also tell that she was very, VERY curious about just how knowledgeable he was to be given such a privilege of having his own pupil.

Draco sighed, yet again angry at himself for what he was about to say. It seemed like lately he had been doing too many things which he never would have done in the past, and it quite honestly bothered him. Yet he opened his mouth to talk.

"Do you think me so immature, Granger?" _Yes, _he would give in, but never did he say that it would have to happen in a civil manner.

Hermione really wanted to answer his question honestly, but she bit down her retort.

"You _will_ be my apprentice for the next three months. I hope you've prepared for a short vacation in hell."

Hermione only nodded, wanting to get this meeting over with so that she could put some distance between the two of them. He was looking at her so fiercely; she could not help but remember a certain balcony when she looked at him.

Draco's eyebrows met slightly as he watched her. What was wrong? Why was she acting so compliant? She did not even complain about how he had threatened to make her life as his apprentice miserable! Normally, she would have already tried to bite his head off at this point. He wanted to tell her that he would have preferred to hear some sort, any sort, of feedback from her because her silence was making him uneasy.

"Do you have any questions?" he asked instead.

She tilted her head to one side, her eyes narrowing as she thought about something. "Tell me, Malfoy," she said, forgetting that she already knew the answer to what she was about to ask. "What exactly do you do for St. Mungo's?" She had been trying to think about what area he specialized in by determining where she excelled in during her Internship, but, she smugly decided, she was too well-rounded in the art of Healing to be able to tell which one she really did well in above the rest.

"I don't exactly know what they call me, apart from 'Specialist', but I am mainly a researcher who makes antidotes and other such potions for rare cases of magical maladies," he answered.

"Ah," Hermione said in reply, suddenly remembering her conversation with Harry and Ron from the last time they were together and realizing that she already knew. Nevertheless, she decided to pretend to not know, just so she could make decent conversation with him. "That explains the jar you were holding that day I saw you outside this very door."

Draco had no recollection of what jar she was talking about, but he shrugged. "I don't _work _here, though. The facilities in this hospital are too arcane. Besides, my work usually involves me being stuck in the laboratory for days, and I sure as hell don't want to smell like a hospital by the end of it."

Hermione chewed her lip thoughtfully. "So where do you do your work?"

"At the Manor," he replied simply.

_Great. I'm going to have to walk into the lion's den, _she thought. _Well, snake's, in this case._ "What was the last case you worked on?" she asked instead.

Draco frowned, remembering the latest work he had done. "Two parents came to St. Mungo's with their 14-year old child over a week ago. The kid had a sort of swelling accompanied by soreness, and the stupid Healers in this hospital could not diagnose him." He sighed again. "It was ASPS."

Hermione bit her lip. ASPS, or Alveolar Soft Part Sarcoma. It was a rare type of sarcoma which was typically found in children and young adults, but could very well be diagnosed from anyone in any age bracket. As far as she knew, statistics—or at least what Muggle medicine has told her—say that most patients diagnosed with ASPS are unable to be completely rid of their cancer. She wondered if Malfoy ever managed to come up with an actual cure that does not involve surgery.

"I came up with a potion that helps to kill the cancer tissues," he continued, answering her unasked question. "But just as ASPS grows slowly in the body, the potion also works almost just as slow. At most, what I came up with could help the person survive the same way he has been surviving up to now, since the cancer cells are killed at about the same rate that they grow."

Hermione nodded. "I commend you, Malfoy. Your potion could help a lot of people. Maybe it could be used for other types of cancer as well." She honestly never would have thought that he had it in him to come up with such a potion. Oh, she knew he was smart, yes, but she had not realized just to what extent his genius could bring him.

"Any other questions?" he asked, leaning back onto the couch.

"Why did you save me the other night?" she asked, unable to stop herself. She saw him visibly stiffen and frown. _And what was up with that kiss? _she also wanted to ask.

Draco did not really need her finding out that he had been close to stalking her that night. He was about to answer when she spoke up again.

"Really," she said. "What were you doing in Muggle London _again_? You seem to be spending a lot of time in the vicinity of Muggles lately."

_Questions, questions, questions!_ thought Draco. _Why did she _always_ have to have questions that I have no answer to?_ "Look, Granger," he growled, turning swiftly and placing his hands on the arm rests of the seat she was in, trapping her. "You won't be seeing me in Muggle London ever again, so instead of trying to find out what I was doing there, I suggest you spend more time practicing Muggle self-defense, since you don't seem to be too fond of using your wand to protect yourself anyway."

He glared into her eyes and she glared back, defiance evident. The proximity of his face to hers made him want to swoop down and kiss her again the same way he had last Sunday, but he pushed that thought away. After a few more seconds, he straightened and stood stiffly in front of her.

"This will be strictly a Master-Apprentice relationship," he continued, running his hands through his hair. "Purely professional. There will be no more saving and, most especially, no more repeat of what happened during the ball last Sunday." He added that last part a bit reluctantly.

"Fine," Hermione said.

"Fine."

"As if I want a repeat of any of those anyway."

"Fine."

Hermione continued to watch Draco, wondering what the hell he was getting mad at her for. Nevertheless, she nodded in agreement at what he said.

Professional sounded good. Professional sounded beyond good. After all, she could not very well spend three whole months exposed to him while being reminded of their experiences the past days with his every move. Never mind that his cologne smelled very intoxicating and that the more minutes she spent in his presence, the more she felt herself pulled towards him…

She snapped herself out of her thoughts and looked away from Draco. "Is there anything else I need to know?" she asked, keeping her eyes on the moving portrait hanging on the wall across her seat. It depicted a typical magical hospital room, with a patient lying on the bed, potions littering the bedside table, and a Healer performing healing charms on the patient's battered body. The Healer in the painting noticed her looking, and winked.

Draco thought for a while. "You can't Apparate into the Malfoy grounds—"

_Duh,_ Hermione thought. _Anyone with half a brain could figure that out._

"—so I'll see you here at St. Mungo's on Monday."

Suddenly, Hermione remembered her job at the clinic. "Uhm…" she said tentatively. "Is it okay if I come to this apprenticeship thing only during the afternoons? I did tell you before that I was a part-timer at a family friend's clinic."

Draco snorted. "I wouldn't even be awake yet before lunchtime," he said matter-of-factly. "Fine, we'll meet at the lobby at around 1 in the afternoon on Monday. Agreed?"

Hermione nodded, brushing her hair away from her face. "Agreed."

Without so much as a word of farewell, Draco shot out of the door, leaving Hermione sitting alone in the waiting room. Shaking her head, she took one last look at the moving portrait on the wall—which now showed the apparently newly-healed patient walking around the bed—before grabbing her things and making for the door.

Sure, she could keep things professional between them. After all, how hard could that be?

* * *

Draco rolled over in his bed, stretching languidly. His sheets were cool, and it made him want to stay in bed the whole day. The previous night had been wild. Blaise threw a party at the Zabini Mansion out of the blue, and Draco had gone home in the wee hours of the morning, a bit woozy with Firewhiskey. He turned on his side and opened his eyes to look at the time. Oh, it was only 2:13 PM. Plenty of time to lie in bed and bury himself in his pillows. After all, there were no commissions…

He shot up from the bed in panic with a matching exclamation of, "_FUCK!_" He had completely forgotten that he was supposed to meet Hermione, his new apprentice, more than an hour ago! He flung the sheets away from his body and ran to the bathroom to take a quick shower.

20 minutes later he was outside of St. Mungo's, half-running to its huge double doors. At that moment, the doors opened, and a livid Hermione strode out. He watched as her eyes found and focused on him, surprised to actually find him there, and he mentally prepared himself for the tongue-lashing he was sure was about to come.

He was surprised when Hermione just rushed past him, her long brown hair whipping his face. Where was the verbal abuse? "Hey Granger!" he said as he turned around to face the direction he had just come from. The witch only ignored him and continued walking briskly away.

Cursing, he ran after her and grabbed her by the elbow. "I said wait!"

Hermione turned to face him, eyes angry. "Actually, you didn't ask me to wait. You just randomly shouted my last name, as if expecting me to answer just because my '_master_' called out to me." She shook her elbows away from his grip. "Well guess what. If I'm going to be apprenticed to the likes of you, who can't even show up in time for an appointment that _you_ yourself set, then I don't think I'd like to be under your care after all."

He made a grab for her elbow again as she turned to walk away. "I'm sorry!" he blurted out. "It wasn't right of me to be late, and I should have gone here early." He sighed. "Last night was wild, and I came home early in the morning, but that's no excuse, and I know it."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him, slightly amused to see Draco Malfoy apologizing to her. "You're right, it's not," she replied, relaxing her arms in his grip. She was actually planning on storming off, but his words caught her attention.

"I'm sorry," Draco repeated, rolling his eyes at himself for apologizing again.

Hermione pried his hand off her elbow and turned to face him fully. "As long as you're aware you're in the wrong," she said, a bit smug. "It's just that there was the clinic and I had to leave the Doctor on his own with all those patients just so I could come here on time, then when I got here you weren't there. I don't even know why I bothered waiting for this long. I was on my way back to the clinic when you arrived."

She was still slightly pissed, but the image of Draco Malfoy admitting he was wrong was too rare an occurrence that it practically wiped off 90% of her anger.

"Well," Draco told her in an effort to try to reassure her. "It won't happen again, I promise." He watched as she nodded her head, and was glad that the verbal abuse he had expected did not happen, though her eyebrows were still knitted together in a frown. While he was not the type to have a hangover, he was not entirely sure that the shrill shrieking of the feisty Gryffindor in front of him would not give him a headache that would be just as bad as if he _did_ have a hangover.

"So, which way do we go?" Hermione asked. At that question, Draco took her arm and Disapparated them to a spot just outside the grounds of the Manor.

Hermione was slightly disoriented and was more than a bit shocked to see that she was standing close to a lake. A little ways up, she could see a white stone mansion that could only be Malfoy Manor, judging from the big "M" on the gate.

"This is a really pretty place, Malfoy," she said, taking in her surroundings. "I have to admit, I was kind of expecting it to be in the middle of a dark forest or something." She followed Draco as he trudged up the little hill on which the Manor was, and bumped into his back as he stopped in his tracks. "What?" she asked, looking up at him and seeing the eyebrow he had risen up at her. "You were an annoying git who associated with Voldemort—I said _were_!—so you can't blame me if I had this image of a dark castle, like in Disney's Beauty and the Beast, instead of a pristine white mansion!"

Draco raised an eyebrow, because he had absolutely no idea what Disney or Beauty and the Beast were, but he chose to ignore that, assuming it was a Muggle thing and something he would not be interested in. He scoffed. "You're such a judgmental Gryffindor," he said with a look of distaste on his face.

Hermione crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Well, you're actually _still_ a git," she said, correcting part of her previous statement. She heard him grunt, and she huffed in return.

Silently, they walked the remaining distance to the gate of the Manor. When they reached the gate, Draco put his palm on the "M" and the gate swung wide open. As much as he did not want to, his mind was running over what Beauty and the Beast could be, and how horrible a mansion Granger could have been actually thinking of. Malfoy Manor, though not a castle, was very elegant and clean, thank you very much.

"Don't try to touch that," he warned her when he saw her stretching her arm to touch the letter. "It would only take you to the middle of the lake." He reached into his pocket and took out a silver bracelet that had markings of snakes all around it, handing it to her. "Wearing this, though, you'll be able to gain access to the Manor in the same way I did. This also gives you the authority to go into any of the rooms inside the Manor. Without it, the doors won't even budge for you, no matter what magic you try."

Hermione hesitated, seeing that the bracelet was a little too big, but she put it on and shut the clasp anyway. As soon as she did, the bracelet shrunk, and a golden "M" appeared on the place where the clasp was supposed to be. She oohed at how beautiful it looked when in the right size, to which Draco grunted again as he began to walk along the stone pathway that led to the Manor's front doors. She had to take bigger steps in order to catch up with him.

A house elf was waiting within the doors.

"Libby," Draco said. "Have sandwiches and refreshments brought down to the lab." He then led Hermione down the hall, where they turned right at the end and nearly bumped into none other than Lucius Malfoy. "Father," Draco greeted.

Lucius did not reply, but instead raised an eyebrow at Hermione. "What is _she_ doing here?" he asked.

"She's the apprentice Healer that was assigned to me," his son replied to him. "She and I will be working in the lab together."

Hermione met Lucius' gray eyes and, to show that he did not scare her, held her head up high and gave him a curt not. Lucius responded to that by raising his eyebrow even higher but he actually returned the nod a few seconds later. She then stepped aside as he all but pushed his way past her.

"Well," Hermione said when she was sure Lucius was finally out of earshot. "I see your father's as sociable as always."

Draco answered her with another grunt, to which she reacted by saying, "At least we know where _you_ get that from." He chose to ignore that comment as well.

They passed by the sunroom, where Narcissa was watering the flowers in the pots all around, before coming to a stop outside the door of his laboratory. Draco took the doorknob and wrenched the door open, making the lights magically switch on as he did so.

"This is my lab," he presented as they climbed down the stairs.

Hermione gaped at the multitude of equipment and apparatus that Draco Malfoy had in his basement. Scales and cauldrons of all sizes, made of different metals and alloys, jars of Potions ingredients lining one wall from floor to ceiling, actual phials of Potions (a lot of which were of Draco's own recipe), and many more were everywhere. Hermione had never even seen that many Potions ingredients all in one place, even in St. Mungo's Potions brewery _or_ in the Apothecary in Diagon Alley. She had to admit, she was impressed. _Very_ impressed.

Draco sniggered. "Of course you'd like this, wouldn't you, Granger?" he asked when he saw the awe in her face. "How very typical of our bookish prude of a Gryffindor Princess."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and placed her hands on her hips. "Okay, Malfoy, if we're going to try to make this work with the most 'professionalism' we can manage, I suggest you start losing the habit of throwing insults at me and calling me names."

Draco only grinned at her and tutted. "Granger, Granger," he said, speaking as he would to a child he was admonishing. "You already know I find you sexy when you're mad, so you really should keep a leash on your temper as well."

Hermione groaned in frustration. It was so hard to understand Draco Malfoy! One minute he was insulting her, and then he was flirting with her the next! His mind was so difficult to read that she never knew what he would be doing or what he would be telling her. If today was going to be any indication of how the next three months would be like for her, then she was not sure she would still be sane by the end of it.

Draco laughed as she turned her back to him, ignoring his comment and choosing to just examine the rows of Potions ingredients that he had. It really was fun to rile her up. However, if he continued to do that then he might just go crazy with wanting her but not being able to touch her. He liked them fiery, after all.

Both of them jumped at the loud crack that resounded in the closed area of the basement, and upon turning their heads to the source of the noise found Libby with a tray of sandwiches and a pitcher of Pumpkin Juice.

Libby was staring at Hermione in wonder, for Master Draco never did bring many females home with him. In fact, it seemed like the last time Master Draco had actually brought a female friend over had been a few months after their graduation at Hogwarts. The brown-haired lady who was in Master Draco's office was definitely worthy of the elf's scrutiny.

When the elf realized how much she had been staring, and saw from Draco's facial expression that he, too, noticed that Libby was giving Hermione some sort of special attention—or inspection, however you want to call it—she purposefully stomped down on her other foot. _Hard._

The house elf gave a small, strangled cry before disappearing with another loud crack.

Hermione's mouth hung open, unable to do anything about the elf because she was too surprised. It never occurred to her that the elf would punish itself just because of something as simple as staring. It made her wonder what Draco had been punishing the elf for, for it to think that staring was such a crime deserving of personal punishment.

Draco, however, did not seem to be bothered by it at all. He strode to the tray, which Libby had left on his worktable, and poured himself a goblet of Pumpkin Juice before grabbing a sandwich. He was famished. He had gone straight to St. Mungo's after his shower and had not yet had any food intake for the day. He held his sandwich up in the air in a kind of salute to Hermione. "Sandwich?" he asked carelessly.

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned back to looking at his potions ingredients.

* * *

Draco pulled the handle of his Asteroid T63 upwards, steering himself higher above the ground. The wind whipped at his face, blowing his hair in all directions. He watched as the Manor grew smaller and smaller the more he gained altitude, and directed his broomstick over the lake. He looked at his reflection as he flew over the large body of water, his silhouette in stark contrast with the bright, white reflection of the moon.

Hermione had already left his house. After she had finished inspecting his medical equipment, he had taught her how to brew his ASPS potion, for a start. The potion normally took about three days to reach its completion, and they had begun on the primary procedures for its basics. Finally, when the potion had finally reached the point where it just had to be left to brew for 18 hours before adding the next set of ingredients, Hermione took her leave.

Once she had gone, Draco went straight to his room to grab the Asteroid, opened the French doors leading to his balcony for some fresh air, and mounted his broom. They had been civil, with very minimal snide remarks directed at one another, but she still nearly drove him crazy. It was completely annoying how she had such an effect on him that she did not even seem to be aware of, and which he had tried to mask with grunts and snorts which basically came off as being open to interpretation.

The entire setup made him feel uneasy. Somebody should probably oversee their every meeting, because he had the feeling that, if the tension between them mounted to so much more than it had now, they might end up either throttling each other to death or snogging themselves to suffocation. Either way, they would probably end up dead.

He did about three laps around the lake to try to clear his head, though it did not do him much good, really.

He felt the serpent ring on his finger grow hot, and knew that was a sign that his father was finally calling him back to the Manor. He had been told that the Greengrasses were coming over for dinner to go over some sort of arrangement with Lucius, and he was supposed to be on his best behavior. Sighing, he steered his broomstick back to the direction of the Manor, landing expertly, but gently, back on his balcony.

Closing his balcony doors to keep the insects out, he walked over to his wardrobe to select his attire for that night, placing the chosen robes on his bed before heading to the bathroom to freshen up with a quick shower.

* * *

**Author's Note: Oooooooh, the Greengrasses. That does not seem to bode well for our two protagonists. What could possibly happen to them now?**

**Here's Chapter 9! Not very exciting, I know. Just normal work stuff. But hey! Draco and Hermione are working together now, so that must be a good thing… Right? Can't wait to write the next chapters! :D Tell me what you guys think, okay?  
**


	10. Unfeasible: Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I do not own Draco Malfoy (as much as I, and a lot of other ladies, want to) or Hermione Granger. The only aspects of this fic that I own are the characters you don't recognize from the books, and the plot. All other credit goes to JK Rowling.**

**A/N: So. I know this is like… More than a year overdue. Would you forgive me, please? I know, I know, I keep asking for your forgiveness. I'm sorry! I will try to write more often! I promise! Work is pretty taxing, but I'll find a way! Meanwhile, here's chapter 10. :)**

* * *

_Chapter 10_

Hermione pulled the magically-expanding ladder to Draco's shelf of potions ingredients. The bottles of salamander blood were near the top of the shelf, and she needed them for the modified strengthening potion that she was trying to come up with. They needed to find a way of removing cysts from a cancer patient, but the cyst membrane was too thin that the slightest touch could cause it to rupture. She and Draco decided to brew a potion that would strengthen the cyst's walls and those walls alone, without affecting the surrounding cells.

She climbed the ladder and fought the urge to look down nervously. She had never really been a fan of heights, and Draco's shelf definitely brought her higher than she would ever want to be, if she could help it. Finally, her hands found the right bottle, and she all but scurried down the rungs of the ladder, back to solid, level ground where she felt secure.

She walked back to the worktable, holding the bottle of salamander blood triumphantly. It was a good thing that Draco had been called up by his father. He always liked watching her as she nervously climbed up and down the ladder, chuckling at the slightest shake of her knees.

She was busy adding the salamander blood drip by drip when she heard the door open. Instead of just one set of footsteps, though, she heard two. Without taking her eyes off the potion that she was carefully trying to measure, she told Draco the developments since he left the basement.

"Malfoy, I've added about half of the salamander blood needed to make the strengthening potion," she said, adding the last drop. "I'm trying to see if the amount of blood we put could solve our problem." She turned around to face him, wanting his input on the matter, and she froze, holding her breath unconsciously.

Astoria Greengrass was with Draco. _Again_. She had one hand up to her face, trying to cover her nose without looking too rude. The other hand was linked with Draco's arm. This was the third day straight that Astoria had been in the lab to visit Draco, so now Hermione's assumption that they were seeing each other was pretty much already confirmed.

Hermione tried to ignore the unpleasant lurch that she felt in the pit of her stomach. "Hello again, Astoria," she said out loud, greeting the younger lady.

Astoria responded with a, "Hello, Hermione." She was one of the more pleasant Slytherins Hermione knew. She did not call those from other houses any derisive names, and she was polite, though maybe a bit elitist. Then again, most Purebloods, if not all, were elitists, so that really does not come as any surprise.

Hermione hated that she actually liked Astoria, but what she hated more was how much she actually wanted to _not_ like the girl.

Draco looked over Hermione's shoulder to see the potion that was simmering in one of his small cauldrons. "Is it supposed to turn dark green?" he asked. His nose caught a whiff of her perfume, discernible over the potion's fumes because of his proximity to her, and he gulped involuntarily. Why did she have to smell so wonderful? He stepped away and grimaced when his sense of smell was once again overcome by the stench of their project.

Before Hermione could even do so much as open her mouth, Astoria already answered for her. "Actually, yes," she said. "When you put half the supposed amount of salamander blood into a strengthening potion, it turns dark green. When you put less than that, it changes into something along the blue-violet range. Just the right amount should give you orange."

Draco smirked and turned his head to face Astoria. "As gifted with Potions as ever," he joked.

He was glad Astoria was there. When her parents had come over two weeks before to talk about a business proposition for Lucius, she had come along. They have been friends since their Hogwarts days, and occasionally went out to catch up, so they left their parents to their negotiations and looked for something else to occupy their time with. When the time came for the Greengrasses to leave, he and Astoria were still engaged in an intellectual argument about a certain book on ancient wizarding civilization. Draco had told her to floo him when she got home so that they could continue with their discussion, and that was exactly what Astoria did. They finished their discussion over the green flames in their respective fireplaces.

After that, they began to owl each other nightly, until Draco invited her to his laboratory two days ago. He found that Astoria's presence took his mind off Hermione. With her, Draco did not feel so uncomfortable with Hermione anymore. It certainly helped that the Slytherin girl was very pleasing to the eyes. When placed alongside Hermione, the Gryffindor ended up looking even plainer than she actually was, and post-Hogwarts-Hermione was _not_ at all plain.

Yes, Astoria's presence in his life at this point was really very much welcome.

Hermione fought the twinge of jealousy that she felt when Astoria slapped Draco's shoulder playfully at his comment about her Potions prowess. Of course, Hermione had no business feeling jealous. This was, after all, in Draco Malfoy's own words, a "professional Master-Apprentice relationship." Hermione hated how she had to continually remind herself of that fact.

She realized the number of things she hated, most often concerning herself, had been increasing recently.

They heard Narcissa call out to Draco from the hall upstairs and Draco excused himself from their presence to see what his mother was calling him for, leaving the two girls in the basement. Hermione honestly felt more than a bit uneasy, but she tried to force a cheery expression.

"What brings you here today, Astoria," she asked, trying her hand at a bit of conversation between the two of them. From the corner of her eye, she watched as Astoria selected one of the stools on the opposite end of the worktable, lifting herself up onto it.

The younger girl shrugged. "Just visiting," she answered truthfully. "There's awful little to do at home when you don't have a job, but Mum insists that she doesn't want me to find work." She tinkered with the row of beakers in front of her. "Then again, I don't really need to work, so I don't see the point in trying to look for one, anyway." She turned to Hermione, watching as the other girl ground Komodo Dragon scales with a mortar and pestle. "You're grinding the scales with fervor," she observed.

Hermione blushed and slowed down the pounding she was doing. "The scales are tough," she reasoned, more to herself, pressing her hand down to prove her point. She had been venting out her frustrations on the poor spoonful of scales without realizing that her arm went down on them heavier with each pound.

Astoria, seemingly unaware of Hermione's discomfort, continued to look around the room. "This really is an amazing laboratory," she commented, watching as many of Draco's apparatus moved in place on their own. One of the many self-stirring cauldrons held a thick, gooey liquid that was almost black, while several measuring cups moved back and forth between sacks of potions ingredients. To one side of the room was a young Mandrake plant, its leaves swaying as the root wiggled inside its compost-filled pot.

Hermione could not help but notice how female and fragile Astoria looked. She was like a porcelain doll. Her skin was white and smooth, and her hair was a silky dark brown. The features of her face were soft and gentle, and she looked just like a girl that a man in a typical Muggle romance movie would like to "protect" and "keep safe".

Frankly, she made Hermione feel more than a bit insecure.

"How are things going with you and Draco?" Astoria asked, breaking Hermione out of her reverie.

"W-what?" Hermione asked nervously, misinterpreting the question.

"Well, I know you weren't friends back at Hogwarts. I think we both agree that to say you weren't friends would be a huge understatement, actually. But interaction between the two of you is unavoidable, seeing as you work in the same lab, and I think a week together should be enough to just bring down the hostility level a notch." She turned to face Hermione and shrugged as if to ask "Don't you think so?"

"Oh," Hermione sighed, breathing with relief. "In the lab, we keep everything professional," she answered. "Or at least, we _try_ to. Sometimes we bicker about each other's Potions-making abilities just like we always have, but even those are kept to a minimum. Of course, you can't expect the bickering to just stop, especially when we've been doing it for six straight years in Snape's Potions classes." She transferred the perfectly-ground Komodo Dragon scales into an empty bowl, then reached for a rat's tail. "As for _outside_ the lab, though… Well, let's just say he's as incorrigible as ever. As to be expected of him, really."

Both girls heard the door to the basement close, and Draco's footsteps descended the stairs.

"I heard you, Granger," he informed her with a slight glare. "You'd be happy to know that you yourself have never failed to prove just how much of a know-it-all you are. You can't really go around badmouthing your mentor, can you?"

Hermione huffed indignantly, nostrils flaring. "In that case, you should really learn to treat me with respect as well. You're the one who starts the bickering all the time anyway."

Draco's eyes narrowed further, but he turned away from her to face Astoria. "Mother was asking for you," he told her. "I think she wants you to bring home some things for your mother."

Astoria gracefully hopped off the stool she was sitting on. "I'd better get going, then. I told my Mum I'd be away for an hour at most." She peered behind Draco to where Hermione was. "Bye, Hermione."

Hermione managed a polite wave. "Bye. Take care."

Draco was about to follow Astoria up the stairs, but the girl turned and stopped him. "There's no need, Draco. I think I know the way around your house already." She chuckled a girly chuckle. "Besides, you really shouldn't be leaving Hermione alone in the lab—nothing against your capabilities, Hermione—because, really, what's the use of her being an apprentice if you're away half the time?"

Draco snorted. "Well, learning on her own has always been good for her, anyway," he said derisively. Hermione closed her eyes in an attempt to calm herself down.

"No," Astoria said firmly. "You go back down there and do what you're supposed to be doing, Draco Malfoy. I'll see myself out." With a final pat on his cheek, she turned on her heels and proceeded up the stairs, leaving before Draco could object any further. He sighed in defeat and walked back to where Hermione was carefully stirring the cauldron in front of her.

"Let's see that, then," he half-growled, causing Hermione to jump. He peered over her shoulder and watched as she stirred the thick green liquid before reaching for a stash of papers sitting carefully on one corner of the table. "According to my research," he read. "We should let it simmer for about an hour to an hour and a half before adding the scales."

"Yes," Hermione affirmed, trying not to sound too cold. "I read about it while you were busy flirting with Astoria." She had meant to leave that last bit out, but for some reason her mouth acted on its own. She bit down her lip before she could say anything else that would aggravate the situation.

Draco threw the papers back down on the table. In one stride he was standing right in front of Hermione, hands planted on the table at either side of her and preventing her escape. "Why, Granger?" he asked in a low voice. "Jealous? Would you like me to just flirt with you alone?" His hands went to her hips and gripped her lightly.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, anything to throw back at him, but nothing would escape her lips. Her brain was concentrating on the feel of his hands on her hips, her senses overcome with all things Draco. When did she start wanting this? Why?

Draco, who, from the outside, seemed to be in control of the situation, was anything but. Without Astoria around, he could not deny his attraction to Hermione, and whenever she showed how feisty she was, the pull on him would be harder. He had resorted to being mean to her to divert his attraction, but he knew that deep inside it would not change a thing. The angrier she got, the more turned on he was. It was a vicious, unending cycle, and he had no idea if there was a way of ending it.

He took a deep breath, which was a wrong move because his nostrils were suddenly pervaded by her goddamned perfume. Willing himself to calm down, he let out a low growl and lifted his hands off her in one swift move, surprising a small gasp from her lips. He looked away from her and lifted his finger to point at the stairs away from the basement.

"That's it for today. Leave."

Hermione found her voice and her strength at his words. "It's only half past three," she reasoned. She usually left for home at around six or seven in the evening. "I've been here for less than three hours."

Draco glared at her. "I don't really care if you've been here five minutes, Granger. I've had enough for today. Get out of my house." With that, he turned his back to her and proceeded to clean up. "No," he said suddenly when he saw from the corner of his eye that she started to help. "I mean it. Leave. Now."

Hermione let go of the bowl in her hand and huffed indignantly for the second time that day. "Fine," she said, grabbing her bag from where she placed it in the supply cabinet. "Have it your way." She pushed past him, knocking him aside, and stomped—quite childishly, Draco observed—up the stairs, leaving Draco alone in the lab.

As soon as he heard the door bang shut, he slumped on the floor, leaning his back on the table. He was not usually as aggressive as he had been earlier. They had survived each other's taunts the past week without either of them coming in close contact as they had earlier. Maybe that was it. Maybe he had been denying his body for too long—_A week hardly seems like long enough, Malfoy, _he told himself dryly—that he had to find a way to feel her.

Damn. It looks like he really did need Astoria in his life, after all. He threw his head back and closed his eyes. He needed time to think.

* * *

Meanwhile, Hermione was in the hallway upstairs, worked up but walking slowly for fear that she may get lost if she proceeded to walk around in a rage. She just got past the conservatory when she heard the door slide open and Narcissa walked through.

"Hermione," Narcissa said, calling to her. "Are you leaving already?"

Unlike Lucius, Narcissa had been accepting of her. In the first place, it seemed like Pureblood elitism did not matter to Narcissa as much as it did to Lucius, though she still believed that Purebloods were God's gift to the wizarding world. At any rate, Hermione respected her, and it seemed like Narcissa had a fair amount of respect for her as well.

"Yes," she said, answering the elder woman's question. "It seems Malfoy—I mean, Draco—has had enough for today. He asked me kindly to leave." She had been unable to hide the sarcasm in that last bit, but she did not care. She was a little too pissed at how the _Slytherin Prince_ had treated her.

Narcissa rolled her eyes and sighed frustratedly. "I should talk to that young man," she said, making a move to turn around and walk in the direction of the basement, but Hermione stopped her.

"No," she said. "It's fine. I don't think either of us is in the mood to work anymore, anyway. Me leaving would be best for both of us." She nodded her head in Narcissa's direction. "I should get going. I'll see you tomorrow, Narcissa." She turned around and walked, determined to get out of the Malfoy Manor, get back to her flat, soak in a warm bath, and fall asleep reading a nice book.

"Hermione," Narcissa called out.

Hermione turned around with a sigh. "Yes?" she asked, hoping Narcissa was not about to ask her to stay.

The older woman lifted a finger and pointed in the direction of the hall opposite of where she was heading. "The door's that way," she said, an amused smile playing on her eyes.

Hermione blushed and apologized for her blunder, said goodbye once more, and walked in the right direction leading to the main doors of the Manor. As soon as she was well out of the Malfoy grounds, she Disapparated back to Muggle London.

She shut the door to her flat with a groan an hour later, hair dripping wet. She had been so angry at Draco, and so in an effort to calm herself down she decided to go for a run around the park near her home. She had been at her seventh lap around the park when rain came pouring down with no warning whatsoever. She had not thought to bring an umbrella considering the sun was shining brightly just before she left the house.

"Oh, bloody hell," she muttered as she shed off her now-drenched sweater. The tank top she was wearing inside was now clinging to her like second skin. She stopped walking momentarily to remove her jogging pants before rushing to her laundry basket. Dumping her wet running attire, she walked back the way she came, took her wand, and magically dried her floor. That done, she walked to the bathroom for a warm bath, for she was freezing and her hands were getting clammy.

Twenty minutes later, she walked out of the bathroom, warm, wrapped in a bathrobe, and drying her hair with a towel. She was also relatively cooler-headed than she had been when she left the Malfoy Manor. Now sated, she went to the kitchen to fix herself a cup of tea. She could still see the rain from outside her kitchen window, and she scrunched up her face in annoyance.

She had been enjoying her run and was ready for three laps more, but nature had to go and cut her off. Now it was 6 o'clock in the evening and she had nothing else to occupy her time with, seeing as the rain did not really invite her to step out of her house. As she walked to the couch with tea in hand, she suddenly missed Crookshanks, whom one of her younger cousins had taken a liking to, and whom Crookshanks seemed to like as well. After five visits during which little Kate had asked "Can I keep him?" repeatedly, Hermione finally consented and let Kate adopt the cat.

"Stupid furball," she mused, laughing, as she remembered how very willingly Crookshanks had walked out her door. If he had still been there, they would have been playing with his favorite ball right now. "I need a new pet, she decided. She was going to get one the next chance she got.

She sat on the couch, sipping her tea and watching the droplets of water trickle down her window. In no time at all, she had already fallen asleep, curled in her couch, her cooling cup of tea in hand.

* * *

**Author's Note: So what's gonna happen next? We'll see in the next chapter. Which, hopefully, would come faster than this one did. :)**


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